Lost Chronicles of Narnia: The Beast of Witherby
by emeraldteardrops
Summary: Movieverse, AU, Just another "The Pevensies don't leave" fic. Summary: Caught between political positioning and shadowed enemies, five young monarchs attempt to unite two ancient foes in harmony. NOT ABANDONED BUT ON HOLD
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N**__ Hmmm…this is movieverse, and the first time I've ever written anything AU. Just another "the Pevensies don't go back home" fic. If that's not your thing, I understand. I will try to be as canon as possible for the rest of it, but since this isn't my normal fandom, expect discrepancies. If I haven't scared you off yet, then here we go._

**The Lost Chronicles of Narnia: The Beast of Witherby**

Chapter One

The thundering of hoof beats shook the ground.

Lounging upon a rock in the middle of Aslan's How, the High King of Narnia munched on an apple, watching with mild boredom as the horseman approached. Peter Pevensie, once upon a time known as Peter the Magnificent, felt anything but that as he squinted in the sunlight. He had forgotten how hot Narnia could be, compared to his old home in England. Even in the shade of the ruins, sweat still rolled down his neck, soaking the open collar of his shirt. Perhaps they should have waited until fall to start rebuilding the ancient site, but the Narnians had needed this hallowed place restored to its former glory.

"My liege!" a deep raspy voice called as the rider slowed before him. Peter rose and swallowed the last bite of his apple, tossing it over his shoulder and stepping forward. Off to the side, his small personal guard rose as well, silently fanning out around him.

"I never would have thought to see you on a horse, Trumpkin," Peter said with a grin, stepping forward to rest his hand on the Red Dwarf's mount. The dwarf rolled his eyes.

"There is a reason Aslan gave me two legs," Trumpkin muttered. The tall Narnian Horse he rode snorted, giving its proud head a shake.

"What good are two legs when you could have four?" the grey asked, prancing so that the dwarf had to grip its mane tightly so he wasn't unseated. "And short slow legs at that."

"That's it," Trumpkin declared in disgust, climbing off so awkwardly that Peter moved to help. The dwarf flapped his hand, indicating that help wouldn't be appreciated. "I was ordered to come to you quickly, your Majesty, but no one said anything about returning as fast. Enough of you, Horse. I'd say thanks, if I wasn't sure you hit each bump on purpose."

The Horse just snorted a second time and flicked his tail, catching the dwarf a neat swipe across the face. Peter bit back a laugh at the evil glare Trumpkin directed at his mount, although Peter's centaur guards chuckled and their captain laughed outright.

"What is this message, good Dwarf?" Peter asked politely. Trumpkin gave him a look to make sure that he wasn't being made fun of, then the Narnian bowed a short perfunctory bow.

"It is from King Edmund, sire. He requests that you return to the castle. There is some…trouble concerning her Majesty."

"Lucy? What has Lu done this time?" Peter asked with a sigh. For such a sweet girl, the youngest queen of Narnia had a way of setting the more traditionalist Talmarines' teeth on edge. More than once in the last several months had either he or Caspian or both been forced to step in and mediate disputes that centered on his sister. Rubbing his forehead wearily, he hoped it wasn't another _tree_ incident. Lu just had to realize that not all trees were Trees, and right now lumber was needed...

"It is not Queen Lucy, sire," Trumpkin reassured him. The dwarf was particularly glad that wasn't the case. While he was not a sentimentalist by nature, Lucy had made a deep and loyal friend in the dwarf, and often he found himself in the middle of her disputes.

"Susan?" Peter was surprised. Susan was another story. His eyes narrowed. "What has happened?" Trumpkin shuffled around nervously.

"Well…" he glanced at his feet, causing Peter to step forward.

"Trumpkin, what is wrong with Susan?" The High King had that tone to his voice, the one that stated that he would not tolerate any foolishness.

"Ummm…"

"Trumpkin!"

"His majesty, King Caspian has had her majesty…err…imprisoned."

"WHAT?"

"Perhaps imprisoned is a harsh term. Sequestered, maybe? Confined?"

"Why?"

"Well…you see it all started in the great council room-" Trumpkin started, then realized with a start that he was being pushed back towards the Horse. "Your Majesty, perhaps I could explain and then walk back?" he asked hopefully.

"You'll explain on the way," Peter growled, swinging up on the proud animal and pulling the dwarf up behind him.

"Great." Trumpkin muttered sarcastically, gripping his king's tunic in a death grip as the Horse wheeled about and took off at a dead run. "Just great…"

There were no bumps the whole ride back. Funny thing, that.

* * *

"My queen, please open the door!"

His majesty, King Caspian X, True King of Narnia, Lord of the Telmarines, Liberator of Narnia, Restorer of the Old Ways, stared forlornly at the heavy oak door in front of him. She had been in there for hours, and therefore he had been out here just as long, beseeching her to let him in so that he could explain his actions earlier in the great council room.

"Your Majesty, please! Queen Susan!"

"I don't think it's going to work," Lucy said from her seat on a nearby windowsill. She gave Caspian a sympathetic look. "Su can be awfully stubborn when she sets her mind to it."

"But if she would just let me explain, I'm sure she would understand…"

"Ha!" Edmund laughed. He had spent the last few hours keeping the pair company in the empty hallway, amusing Lu with fancy swordplay and watching Caspian grow more distraught as time passed by. "You really don't know Susan, do you? I once stole her diary and accidentally lost it in the river trying to keep it from her. She wouldn't speak to me for a week."

Caspian gave him a look of dismay, and Edmund shot him an evil grin.

"And I suppose that's nothing compared to having her put in jail."

"I did not!" Caspian cried, glaring at Edmund as he strode in a circle, boots clunking the ground. "I merely suggested that she retire until the situation was contained."

"You drug her to her room and ordered guards to watch her," Edmund reminded him, balancing the hilt of his sword on the back of his hand.

"For her _protection_! Your majesty should know better than anyone how volatile Narnian politics has become! I could not risk her safety."

"You told the guards no one was to let her out." The sword flipped and the young King caught it deftly.

"I said no one was to come in! It was never my intention for them to hold her here indefinitely," Caspian growled in indignation.

"They took it that way," Lucy added. "She tried to leave and they wouldn't let her."

"You should have just let it go, Caspian," Edmund decided, sliding forward into an _en guard_ stance. "Susan is perfectly capable of taking care of herself."

"The council is corrupt and deceitful," the Telmarine king was still holding his ground, despite the pitiful way his shoulders were hunched as he stared at the queen's chamber door. "Edmund, they believe that they only have to deal with the High King, you, and myself. They are not used to females holding power and they don't take kindly to being told otherwise. She was making enemies faster than I can count."

"You made her look like a silly girl, having her removed like that," Lucy told him simply. "Her opinions are just as valid as anyone else's. And with Peter gone, she outranks the rest of us."

"This is not the Narnia of old," Caspian said quietly. "Even if we would wish it. I was trying to protect her. If the council views her as a threat, they will make a point to target her."

"Tell me again why we haven't simply disbanded this council?" Edmund asked with a grunt, slashing at an invisible enemy.

"The Telmarine council has existed for the last thousand years. It is a check and balance system, set up to ensure that no lord become too aggressive against his neighbor, and to provide a direct link between the monarch and his people." Caspian felt like he was reciting from a tutor's book, and knew it was obvious he didn't believe what he was saying.

"How's that working out for you?" Edmund asked sarcastically. "Miraz didn't seem too _connected_ to his people."

"The true purpose of the council has been lost beneath the greed and ambitions of the lords that hold seats," Caspian acknowledged, his dark eyes growing sad. "But the people need to keep some of their old traditions, or they will lose hope. There is enough dissent, enough confusion and loss. The Telmarines need something old to hold onto."

Edmund said nothing but his face betrayed his feelings on the matter. The Kings and Queens of Old had tried to sympathize with the Telmarine commoners; it was not their fault that they had been led astray by their rulers. But centuries of fear and distrust of the true Narnians, along with too many Telmarine lives lost at Aslan's How, had left many bitter and lost. Many of the Narnians weren't much better, and to Edmund, their feelings were justified. The Narnians had lost much more than the Telmarines ever had. It was a tense time for the young rulers, trying to bring two ancient enemies into a single nation in harmony. They needed to stay strong together, a united front.

Today…hadn't helped.

Caspian rubbed his temples, fighting back a serious headache. The last thing he wanted to be doing right now was fighting with one of the Pevensie monarchs. Especially not Queen Susan. He had nothing but respect for her, and if he could be so bold, even affection for her. The battle had left them as friends, and he desperately wanted to keep it that way.

"Perhaps I should try again?" Caspian wondered, despite a hand sore from knocking on her door.

"Couldn't hurt," Lucy said supportively. "Maybe you could apologize again?"

"Perhaps you could grovel and beg her lady's forgiveness," Edmund added with a snort, rolling his eyes and changing stances. "If it matters so much to you, Caspian, why don't we just give the door a good kick? I could hold her down and you could tickle her into submission."

Caspian just stared, awed and a little offended that King Edmund would suggest such a thing. For him to put his hands on Queen Susan like that! Indeed!

"He's joking Caspian," came a deeper male voice from down the hall. Seeing who it was, Caspian both sighed in relief and cringed. Relief that Peter would be able to reason with his sister, and cringing from the likelihood that the High King would take his actions in the same way as Susan had. Depending on Peter, it could be Caspian that ended up imprisoned…for real. The High King strode down the hallway, blonde hair flattened with sweat from the heat, eyeing them briefly. His clothes were dirty and he looked tired. At his heels Trumpkin hurried, his short legs having a hard time keeping up. The Dwarf had an especially harried expression, and he had a bit of a limp.

"Now what's this about you locking up Su?" Peter asked, his voice light. Still…Caspian caught the gleam in his monarch's eye. The Telmarine king had overstepped his authority in the other king's eyes; that was obvious. Suppressing a groan, Caspian straightened his shoulders. If he was going to be reprimanded for his actions, he would at least take it like a man. Bowing his head stiffly, the proper show of respect for the High King, Caspian proceeded to explain himself.

"Her majesty attended the great council this morning, as per her right as a Queen of Narnia. However the suggestions she was making to the council were…dangerous ones, your Majesty." Caspian growled a bit under his breath. "The Telmarine lords view their majesties as merely political figureheads, and not as beings capable of actions. Truly, she was the first female allowed in the council in the last nine hundred years, my King. They didn't take kindly to her…views on the current state of our people. I had her removed and sequestered in her quarters safely until I was able to diffuse the situation."

"You had a queen of Narnia _removed_ from council?" Peter's eyebrow rose. Caspian flushed, then couldn't help his angry retort.

"They were watching her as one would watch a lioness," Caspian snapped. "She might as well have painted a target on her bodice!" Edmund coughed pointedly and Lucy held back a snicker as Caspian continued obliviously. "Thus far the queens have been safe, for the council would not risk the wrath of the old Narnians by hurting one of their female monarchs. But that won't always be the case if the council is provoked."

"Only the females? Thanks for that," Edmund joked, then shut his mouth at the look Peter leveled him.

"But if they think that Susan and Lucy are real threats, then they may arrange attempts on their lives, as they have on both of ours," Caspian finished, looking furious at the mere thought. Lucy found it kind of sweet, although she didn't necessarily think she needed another big brother watching over her these days. Two and an overprotective dwarf seemed enough.

"So you put Su in her room, and the guards wouldn't let her out," Peter finished, rubbing his face wearily. "You know you didn't have that right, Caspian." The young king stiffened even further, but said nothing. "Ed, how long has she been in there?"

"Since noon," Edmund sheathed his sword and gave his brother an enthusiastic grin. "Are we kicking the door down?"

"Last time I nearly got a vase in the face," Peter grumbled, then rolled up his sleeves. He and Edmund had obviously done this before, by the practiced way they positioned themselves. Caspian looked questioningly at Lucy, who merely laughed.

"You owe me one, Caspian," Peter added grumpily as he raised his foot. "One…two…three!"

The door went flying inwards with a crack. Instinctively both kings ducked, covering their heads from any sort of airborne objects that might be hurtling their way.

"Ummm…Su?" Edmund called, stepping through the debris. "Susan?"

"Oh, bloody hell," Peter snapped, rolling on his heel and glaring at Caspian as he strode past. "She's gone."

"But how?" Caspian asked, peering into the room curiously. Edmund followed his brother, giving the Telmarine a clap on the shoulder as he passed.

"It's called a window, chap." True enough the stained glass doors hung open, letting in a hot stream of air.

"I don't understand. We're three stories up."

Lucy just shook her head and took Caspian by the hand, leading him after her brothers.

"We're _Narnians_, Caspian," she reminded him, as if that should explain everything. Poor Caspian. It really didn't.

* * *

Destrier was breathing heavily and Queen Susan the Gentle, true to her nature, was forced to rein him in. Even within the shade of the forest, it was too hot to keep up much of a gallop for long, and it was obvious that the horse needed a drink. There was a river up ahead where they could both rest.

"'I insist that you retire, my gentle queen'," Susan mimicked sarcastically, grumbling to herself as she rode. "I'll show him _gentle_. The nerve…"

Above her head the great Eagle Alanar screamed, echoing his queen's defiance. It was he who had noticed the furious queen through the open windows in her chambers, ignoring the pounding on her door, and it was he who helped her from her room, carrying her to the stables and letting her escape on Destrier. It was not on accident that she had chosen Caspian's horse as her mount. The sleek animal was the fastest in the stable, although not a match for the Narnian Horses. If the dolt wanted to come find her, then he would have to do so on a mount less skilled than his own, or have to _ask_ for a ride.

Destrier obediently slowed to a walk, his dark coat lathered near white on his neck. Susan gave the horse a pat on the rump, leaning back as the animal navigated a rather steep down slope, his sensitive nostrils smelling the water up ahead. He nickered softly as the sound of running water soon met their ears. To his credit, the horse only gave a small start as the Eagle silently winged in to rest on a nearby boulder.

"There are search parties abroad, your Majesty," Alanar rumbled in his deep rolling voice. The Eagles were hard to understand, one had to be used to their particular vocal vibrations. Actually it had come out as "Thrrrr rrr ssserrrch prrrrtiesss abrrroad, yrrrr Majessssty," but Susan had understood clearly. In the old times, she had spent many of her nights with the great Eagles. It had been a secret thrill of hers to fly with the wind in her face, the strong beating of wings beneath her knees. But those Eagles had long since passed, and one did not _ask_ to fly…one was invited to. The Eagles of today were even more aloof, rightfully so, and it was only because Queen Susan was remembered amongst their tales of old that they kept guard on her. Alanar shook his wings, the huge feathers fluffing slightly before lying flat. Twice as large as the horse with razor sharp talons and beak, Destrier eyed the Eagle warily as he drank.

"For me?" Susan asked wearily. The Eagle dipped his head in acknowledgement. Susan knew better than to question how he knew for certain. It was not wise to doubt an Eagle.

"Well that didn't take that long," she continued, moving to the shade of a nearby tree. "Alanar, could you let them know that I am fine, and that I will return presently?"

The bird gave her a searching look, then abruptly sprang up into the air, silent wings causing gusts of wind to blow her hair out of place. Susan sighed and leaned back against the tree. For the moment she was glad to be alone, her only companion a truly simple animal that paid her no heed and asked her no questions. That year in England had been hard, her thoughts constantly on the things she missed about being in Narnia. Now that she was back, Susan was reminded of some of the not so pleasant things that accompanied being a ruler.

She had never truly been alone in the Old times, for there had always been retainers about. But it had been much safer times. Now there were retainers, and guards, and usually either one of her brothers or Caspian about at all times. She was old enough to understand the wisdom of precautions, for not everyone liked the way things were changing in Narnia, but it didn't mean that Susan liked it. Still, she was a queen, and would accept such things. What burned her buttons was being forced to accept these suffocating precautions because of her position, and then being hustled out of council like some silly twit that shouldn't have ever been there. By Caspian no less! The newly crowned King of Narnia, King of the Telmarines, might be quiet and polite and a perfect gentleman, but he should have known better. She was quite vexed with him.

"How do you put up with him, Destrier?" Susan grumbled, kicking her boots off and wiggling her bare toes in the soft grass. Destrier looked up in response to her voice, but quickly resumed drinking.

"I'll tell you what, that boy almost got a good knock on the head this morning. If Peter had been there…" If Peter had been there, he probably would have done the same thing, truth be told. The High King was just as anxious as Caspian to keep her and Lucy out of the eyes of the Telmarine nobles. It seemed that everyone quickly forgot the roles both her and her sister had played in saving the Narnians, this time around and last. Susan was anything but helpless, and it was about time that the kings of Narnia start remembering it!

Susan quit her grumbling, determined to at least salvage a bit of her mood before returning to the castle. Instead she tried to relax, resting her head against smooth bark, and letting her eyes close. The horse wouldn't stray far, he was too well trained. _Too much like his master_… In Susan's opinion, Caspian had been trained to be too respectful before a council that hated him. They were no better than Miraz had been, merely slower to grasp the reins of power. Political maneuvering on such a scale made her skin crawl, those men disgusted her with their smarmy compliments and veiled threats. She had told them so, calling them out on their loyalties, in defense of Caspian. She had never been evicted from a room faster.

The great lout.

Still, it was hard to be _too_ angry at him. Those chocolate brown eyes had seemed so apologetic when he drug her to her rooms. And the tone in his voice as he had addressed the guards had been so concerned, as if he thought that what she had said in council was enough to cause an instant retaliation. In a way it was sweet…plus as quiet and shy as he was, to hear him bark orders so forcefully was a nice change. He'd had a lot of things to deal with these last few months, herself and her siblings not being the least of his problems.

"I'll tell you what, that's not the least of his problems, that's for sure," a male voice said in a disgruntled tone. Susan's eyes snapped open and she saw the horse looking downstream. There were men close by, and judging by their accents, they were Telmarine.

"Young Caspian better choose where his loyalties lie, soon enough," a second, deeper voice replied. Susan eased herself up silently, slipping towards Destrier. She wanted to hear this, but didn't want to be caught on foot if they found her. Taking the reins, Susan led the horse back into the shadows of the trees, assuming the men were headed for a drink by the river. She kept her hand on the animal's muzzle in a signal for silence.

"The Old Narnians gave him his throne back, you can't blame him for wanting to help them out," the first stated, and Susan saw a shadow fall across the river rock. They were very close, refilling water skins in the river.

"He led a war against his own people. You know how many Telmarines died at the hands of those _animals_?" The last word was spat out in disgust. "And we're supposed to be grateful? Miraz wasn't no walk in the park, but high taxes are better than a King that lets others kill us all."

"It was war, people die in war."

"Tell that to my old lady, when she wakes up screaming for a son that's never coming back. Caspian ain't my king, not if he wants to be the king of those freaks too."

Silence, then the first whispered worriedly. "You better be careful talkin' like that. It's treason, and they say those Narnians have spies everywhere, even the trees."

"If it's treason to speak the truth, then Caspian's no better than Miraz. And I'm not saying nuthin' that others aren't thinkin'."

"….Yeah."

Destrier snorted as a fly flew into his nose, causing one of the men to scramble up to his feet.

"Who's there?" he cried, rushing towards the sound. But all the Telmarine saw was the flicker of a black tail as it disappeared into the trees.

* * *

Edmund the Just, King of Narnia, had just finished having a very unhelpful conversation with an Eagle. He had been trying unsuccessfully to get the Eagle to lead him and his guard to Susan, when a dark speck appeared on the horizon. Edmund squinted in the sunlight, then sighed in relief as he recognized Caspian's horse, with a rider too short and slender to be Caspian. Wheeling his mount around, Edmund rode out to meet her.

"Su!" he greeted, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. "Where have you been? Peter's got the castle out looking for you."

Susan tossed her hair in a very queenly manner, and decided to ignore the reproach in her brother's tone. "I don't know what everyone gets so worried about," she stated. "I was perfectly fine."

"Things aren't as safe as you think," Edmund said quietly, out of earshot of his men. They trotted a good thirty feet from the centaur guards, who had formed a loose circle around the pair. "Peter was quite upset when he heard that you had taken off alone."

"I wasn't alone, Ed," Susan replied. "I had Alanar with me." True enough, the Eagle still flew above them, in lazy circles. For no seeming reason at all, Alanar dove from the sky, veering out of sight. Edmund just shook his head. Perhaps the Eagle was letting everyone else know that Susan had been found safely.

"And in the time he was here with me? Who was guarding you then, Su?"

"I was guarding myself, Edmund. I don't understand why you all seem to forget that I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself." But there was an odd tone to her voice that he picked up on.

"Susan? What happened." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. Susan glanced away, her dark curls hanging limply down her back. When she looked back he could see the worry in her eyes.

"The Telmarine commoners are displeased with Caspian," she finally said. "For leading us against them. Some of them don't want him as king."

Edmund actually laughed, causing Susan to give him an astonished look. "Is that all? Su, we've known that for months. Why do you think that Caspian whisked you out of the council so fast today?"

She just stared at him uncomprehendingly.

"The Telmarine commoners are split in half, and so are the lords that keep them contained. The lords are a testy lot, and even those that support Caspian are sitting on the fence ready to jump sides any moment. Calling them…what was your term? Oh that's right. 'Unpatriotic unmitigated asses.' That didn't really help much." Edmund watched Susan flush, then smiled. "It could have been worse, Su. He got you out of there before you really laid into them."

"Is Caspian angry with me?" she asked softly, glancing down at the horse she rode. His horse. That she stole after embarrassing and compromising him in council. "Oh bother, he has to be, hasn't he?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps if you give him another kiss like you did when you thought we were leaving, he might go easy on you," Edmund joked, and Susan swatted at her brother's arm to his laughter.

"Things aren't good for him right now, are they?" Susan asked after awhile. "Sometimes I think he really doesn't want to be king." Her brother pursed his lips, thinking seriously.

"Aslan said he was ready," Edmund finally said. "He'll get through this, we all will." The faith in Edmund's voice wasn't forced, but it wasn't strong either. He still knew something that she didn't, but Susan chose not to push the issue at the moment. She'd find out from Peter, he could never keep her in the dark when she knew he was withholding information. As second eldest, he still looked to her for support, and he'd cave if Susan pressed enough. Unlike Edmund, who either would say nothing or say as much as he had to just to stop the questions.

The castle of the Telmarines was beautiful, its white stone walls gleaming in the late afternoon. Still there was something about it that didn't set well with Susan. It was a good place, but there had been many bad people who had ruled there. It lacked the purity of Cair Paravel, her ancient home. For not the first time, Susan wished that Peter had ordered the castle rebuilt before the restoration of Aslan's How, and not for the first time she felt a rush of guilt for feeling that way. They owed everything to Aslan…it was only proper they respect him before anything else they might personally want.

There was a larger group of riders waiting for them as they rode up to the castle drawbridge. By the presence of so many centaurs, who took pride in being the Narnian royal guard of all their majesties, it was obvious that High King Peter was one of them. The black leather and chainmail garb of Caspian's personal guard circled the other side of the two kings, whom sat astride horses in the middle, speaking quietly to each other. All assembled looked tired and dirty, and Susan groaned in embarrassment. Both Peter _and_ Caspian? Edmund had been right when he said that Peter had everyone out looking for her. Well, it wasn't as if she had run away or anything! She just wanted out for a ride. Alanar had been there…

At their approach, the two kings turned their mounts, eyeing her. Peter looked aggravated, his pale skin sunburned. Caspian's darkly tanned face was blank, unreadable, but his eyes locked on hers for a brief uncomfortable moment before she looked away.

"Great day for a ride, Su," Peter said sarcastically as her and Edmund rode up to join them. Susan said nothing, suddenly acutely embarrassed with how many people had gone looking for her. Destrier must have sensed her discomfort, and the horse snorted and shifted sideways, bumping her leg into the rider next to her. It was Caspian. The young king spoke a word to the horse, a command Susan had never heard before, and Destrier immediately calmed down. Completely humiliated at this point, Susan pushed Destrier forward, past Caspian and Peter. A groom was waiting for them, and although Susan had always taken great pride in caring for her mounts after a ride, she dismounted without help and shoved the reins in the groom's hands.

Then she fled.

She made it up the first flight of stairs towards the east towers, ignoring the heavy boots echoing after her.

"Su, wait up a second, will you?" Peter growled. "Queen Susan, halt!"

She slid to a stop, aggravated beyond all belief that he had _pulled rank_ on her. Drawing herself up coldly, Susan turned and curtseyed deeply to the High King of Narnia. "Yes, your Majesty?" she asked with all the respect due one of his station. Peter rolled his eyes and took hold of her arm, drawing her next to his side as they continued to walk.

"Don't be daft, Su, I just want to make sure you're okay," Peter said. "It worried us all when you took off like that."

"I didn't _take off_, Peter," Susan retorted. "I have never had to ask permission to go out riding before. Or, like my ability to speak my mind in public, has that changed as well?"

Peter halted and stared at her, then let her arm drop. He groaned and leaned back against the stone wall.

"Come on, Su. Don't be like this."

"There was once a time when you appreciated and encouraged me to be myself," Susan told Peter quietly. Her older brother sighed.

"Things aren't the same as they used to be. We aren't nearly as safe here as we were in Cair Paravel. If something happened to you or Lucy, I wouldn't be able to stand it." He was giving her that look, the one that begged her to just let him do what he felt was right, the one that always made her cave.

"Fine Peter," Susan relented exasperatedly. "I will ask permission before riding."

"I just want you to have an escort, that's all."

"Okay. Are we finished?"

Peter could see the embarrassment on her face, and he saw it grow as a third figure approached them. It was Caspian. This was really the last thing he needed right now, to play mediator between the two of them. But Caspian had asked for help…

"We are." Peter glanced between Susan and Caspian pointedly. "But you two aren't. I believe apologies are in order." With that, the High King of Narnia turned on his heel and strode off, leaving the two of them in silence.

It was easy to avoid his eyes, what with him being so much taller than she was. But Susan was a Queen of Narnia and that was not for the faint of heart. Looking up at the man in front of her, she caught him staring at her in discomfort.

"I apologize, my lady," Caspian suddenly said, his manners taking hold, and he bowed deeply to her. "For any offense I have given you today, my deepest regret. I--" At this point he stumbled a bit over his words.

"I only wished to protect you," Caspian said, his shoulders slumping. "My actions seemed to have had the opposite effect." He looked so distraught that the last part of her that was still angry gave way.

"Oh, Caspian," Susan sighed, and then she took his hand. "You're not the only one to blame today. I…stepped out of line in the council. And I shouldn't have left without saying anything, even if I wasn't alone. I'm sorry too."

He gave her a tentative smile, glancing down at their hands. They stood that way for a moment, then Caspian's smile grew, his eyes beginning to twinkle.

"You haven't apologized for stealing my horse, my Queen," he reminded her. Susan grinned mischievously and shook her hair back.

"That's because I'm not sorry and I plan to do it again," she said regally, causing a soft chuckle to escape his throat. "Walk with me?"

"Of course," Caspian immediately offered her his arm, pretending that he wasn't disappointed to have to let go of her hand. "Would you like me to escort you back to your chambers?"

"Yes, I think a bath would be really good right now," she decided, before arching an eyebrow at him. "You're not going to lock me up in there again, are you, your majesty?"

Caspian flushed and looked down. "Of course not," he assured her softly. "The guards misunderstood. I would never have…"

"I was joking, Caspian."

He looked up as Susan stopped, facing him with another smile.

"You know jokes, right King Caspian?"

Susan's head was tipped back so she could look up at him, and her hand was still on his arm. They were very close. The last time they had been this close she had kissed him.

"Yes, my lady," he assured her, realizing that she was leaning in slightly. Despite the trouble it had caused, the way she had defended him today had made him feel good. The way she had her face upturned to his, it would only take so little to lean down and brush his lips across hers. And the thought of doing _that_ made him feel...feel like it should be done.

Caspian reached a hand up to touch her chin, tipping her head back a little bit more. _He's going to kiss me_, Susan thought in surprise, than with growing anticipation. The dark haired Telmarine king leaned down…

The rest was a blur. There was blood. There was a roar of fury as their bodies were slammed to the floor, and a cry of surprised pain. And then, because memory always works better backwards, there was a crossbow bolt that punched through his armor and buried itself into her.

Finally there was nothing but darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Lost Chronicles of Narnia: The Beast of Witherby**

Chapter Two

"This is UNACCEPTABLE!"

The shout rang through the Queen's chambers, punctuated by a large fist slamming into wood. Everyone in the room jerked, and Lucy looked about in tears. They were used to Peter's temper, even Edmund's. However, the monarch that strode furiously back and forth about the gathering room had always been quiet and composed, even in anger. They had only seen him raise his voice once, in argument with Peter at Aslan's How. But tonight they were seeing a new side to him.

Caspian was livid.

His left side was bandaged from where the crossbow bolt had grazed his ribs, the only weapon strong enough to punch through chainmail. The dark haired man seemed oblivious to the injury as he paced the room, and his handsome face was a thundercloud. Lucy had offered to help, but Caspian was too irate to care at the moment.

"How DARE they?" he roared. "How did this happen? How, Lord Tenneth?"

Tenneth, Caspian's appointed general, was down on one knee, looking as distraught as everyone else. An older man, with more gray in his hair then black, Tenneth had been Caspian's instructor as a child. A master swordsman and a kind man at heart, he was one of the few that Caspian had trusted when he assumed the throne. Up until this point the man had done very well in his position, never flinching when his new promotion required him to work side by side with some of the more fearsome Narnian creatures. Tenneth was in charge the King's security, which had failed completely it seemed.

"My lord…" Tenneth choked out, head bowed. "Everyone in the guard had proven their loyalty to you. It was…no one would have thought that Lomar would have turned traitor. My sincerest apologies, my King. That any harm befell you-"

"I don't give a _damn_ about anything that happens to me!" Caspian cried, striking the table once more and causing Lucy to jump. He pointed at her majesty's bedchamber. "It is not I that lies in that room, injured! Queen Lucy almost did not make it in time with her cordial, and I swear by my throne that if anything had happened to her…" Caspian sputtered off, once more furious. Tenneth bowed deeper, waiting it seemed to see how alike his Uncle Miraz that Caspian really was.

"Technically Su's fine," Edmund spoke up quietly. "It just takes a bit to recover from the shock of it all."

"I don't _care_!"

Peter shared a look with Edmund, then glanced at Lucy. She was huddled close to Trumpkin, who was looking equally upset. Outside the centaurs were waiting for them, and it was no secret that they blamed both themselves and the Telmarine general for allowing any harm to have befallen Susan. There was tension in the air, and having Caspian this upset was keeping everyone on edge.

"Listen Caspian, we have to figure out what to do next," Peter finally said. He had hoped that the young King would have let out a bit of his anger and then calmed down, but Caspian seemed the type who only grew angrier as time went on. It was time to check him up. "I understand why you're angry, but everyone's still okay. If it hadn't been for you, Su wouldn't have lasted as long as she did. This Lomar chap poisoned himself before anyone could question him, so now we have to figure out if there's anyone else in your guard that you can't trust."

At that statement Lord Tenneth went pale, then red. Still he remained silent, his face a grimace. His shame radiated off him in waves.

"We could place more Old Narnian's to him," Edmund suggested. Lucy shook her head, watching Lord Tenneth sadly.

"He is the Telmarine King, and it is the Telmarine's honor to guard him," Lucy said softly. "True, sir?"

Tenneth exhaled a shuddering breath. "My lady, it is an honor we do not deserve, considering how badly we have failed his Majesty."

"You have failed no one, my lord," Caspian growled, leaning with both hands on the great table. His anger was now directed at himself instead of his retainer. "It is I who have failed. I should have protected her Majesty better."

"Enough, Caspian," Peter stood up, facing the other king with finality in his voice. "I saw the corridor and the other two bolts. Had you not pushed Susan to the ground and shielded her, she would have been struck again. You carried her to Lu, even though injured yourself, and I thank you for that. Can we please be a bit more productive now and stop shouting? You're frightening Lucy."

Caspian opened his mouth as if to speak, then thought better of it. Finally he bowed to the youngest monarch. "My apologies, your Majesty." Lucy just smiled bravely at him.

"There's something off about this," Edmund said, causing the general to look up at him quickly.

"The crossbow bolts, your Majesty," Tenneth said, nodding to himself.

"What do you mean?" Peter demanded to know.

"Well technically Lomar was just one man," Edmund mulled through it. "He only had a single crossbow on him, and it takes quite a while to string those up, Pete."

"So there had to be another shooter," Caspian stated coldly.

"Two, your Majesty, or one with two crossbows." Tenneth looked down at the floor. "I just don't understand it. Lomar was the first to pledge himself to you, my King. He was your most steadfast supporter. It makes no sense for him to make an attempt on your life like that."

"Are we sure it was Caspian's life they wanted?" Trumpkin spoke up. "Or was it Queen Susan's?"

At that Caspian swore and stepped away from the table.

"Language, my dear Caspian," came a quiet voice from the doorway. The young monarch swung around quickly. It was Susan, looking a bit drawn but no worse for the wear. She smiled bravely at the room, then seemed to swoon a bit against the doorframe. Peter and Edmund both moved to help her, but Caspian had already jumped to her side.

"You should be in bed, my Queen," he told her worriedly, but Susan just shook her head.

"No, I've been in bed long enough. Lu, doesn't this cordial of yours work a bit better than this? I'm still awfully sore."

Lucy glanced at Peter, waiting for his nod before answering. Even Caspian hadn't known what she was going to admit to now. "Ummm…you were quite hurt, Su. You had lost a lot of blood…I wasn't sure it was going to work until it did."

Caspian, who had guided Susan to a chair next to Lucy, looked at the youngest Pevensie in horror. "You said nothing of that to me!"

"No need to upset you even more," Lucy shrugged, but then gave her sister a gentle hug. "He was quite worried you know," she added to Susan, who merely smiled.

"I am fine," Susan assured them all. She raised an eyebrow at the Telmarine king. "But why is Caspian still injured, Lucy?"

"He wouldn't let me heal him until he knew you were okay," Lucy said with a little twinkle in her eye. "I told you he was quite worried, even more than the rest of us."

"_I_ was worried…" Trumpkin said under his breath, a bit offended, and got nudged with Lucy's elbow as a reward. Susan turned her piercing eyes to Caspian.

"Well, that was silly," she told him frankly. Caspian blushed quite deeply this time, and sank down into a chair so the table blocked out view of his ribs. Peter grinned and shared a look with Edmund. Only Susan could bring Caspian to a halt that fast. The queen had an amazing ability of getting right to the point, much to the possible embarrassment of those who were chastised in the process. "So, who tried to kill me, or Caspian, whichever it was?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out," Peter informed her. "One of the assassins was in Caspian's personal guard, but there were one or two more hiding that we don't know anything about."

"Hiding where? It wasn't like there were many places to hide in that hallway. Only a mouse could have kept out of sight," Trumpkin muttered.

"I wouldn't say that anywhere near Reepicheep, Trumpkin," Edmund advised. "He's been in a fury because of this."

"Beware the wrath of men, fear the wrath of Mice," Peter murmured drolly. Lucy couldn't help giggling.

"This is not a laughing matter, your majesties," Caspian said seriously. "Especially if the target today was not myself. We must find these other assassins."

"I will have your people questioned at once, my King," Tenneth replied in his gravelly voice. He rose and bowed deeply to his lord. "Unless you have further need of me?"

"No. Go, Lord Tenneth," Caspian dismissed him. The Telmarine general bowed to the Pevensies as well, then strode to the door with his back straight and his head held high.

"And Tenneth?" Caspian's hardened voice caused the general to pause. "This does _not_ happen to my queen again."

The general turned and bowed once more, face bleak, before leaving the room. Susan gave Caspian an incredulous look.

"You don't blame _him_, do you? That's unkind of you, Caspian."

He was not moved.

"If it keeps you safe, my lady, then I shall be more than unkind," Caspian said flatly, leaning back in his chair, dark eyes on hers.

"You sound like a Telmarine," Lucy said softly. "Don't forget that you are a King of Narnia, now too, Caspian. You have to have more forgiveness than this."

The young monarch rose, resting his hand on his sword. He shook his head, glancing one last time at Susan. "That is something that I may not be able to do," he replied curtly. Then he bowed his head slightly to them, before he too left the room.

"He's under a lot of stress," Trumpkin said before anyone had a chance to speak. "He was quite frightened today. Your majesties must give him a bit to recover."

"Unfortunately now is not the time for weakness, no matter what the reason," High King Peter said. He stood up and walked to the tall stained glass windows, staring outside at the Narnian night sky. Peter sighed, remembering the better times, the Old times, and what he had learned as King during them. He rested his hand on the wall and grimaced.

"This is only going to get worse before it gets better."

* * *

Peter's words were true enough. The very next day a brawl broke out in the streets of the city. No one could really remember how it started, or who was to blame. Perhaps no one wanted to admit to it. But it took the King's palace guard nearly an hour to break up the fight. The damage done was distressing. Shops and inns had been destroyed by those fighting, and what wasn't broken was stolen by thieves taking advantage of the situation. King Caspian himself had to ride out into the melee before it finally died down. Sadly enough it was the Old Narnians that ceased their dispute first, shamed in front of their King.

The Telmarines muttered amongst themselves when the King returned to his castle, before turning around to pick up the pieces of what was left of their lives.

* * *

Caspian couldn't sleep.

He should have been in bed hours ago, but instead he had spent the night wandering the castle. Caspian had ordered his guard to drop back, giving him a semblance of solitude, although the footsteps that always shadowed him couldn't be completely ignored. He was so frustrated! He had fought so hard for this monarchy, and in that fight he had never thought beyond winning the battle. He had never wondered what would happen afterwards. And if he had, he certainly wouldn't have believed it could be like this.

His people were fighting. Not just the Old Narnians fighting the New Telmarine Narnians. The Telmarines were fighting each other, and if the rumors being repeated by his advisors were true, the Narnians were fighting amongst themselves as well. No one seemed happy, and everyone had their own ideas as to who belonged where. The policies that he and Peter had implemented seemed to be helping little…if they were helping at all. There had to be something more that the monarchs could do, something to move their people beyond all this fighting. But so far it felt like Caspian was merely spitting into the wind.

"Your majesty should be in bed."

Caspian paused and looked to his right. Standing in the adjacent corridor was Queen Susan. Caspian's heart skipped a beat as a hundred different thoughts and images ran through his head. Of her in battle, bravely letting arrows fly. Of her dismay when she saw his temptation by the White Witch. Of the scared but determined look she had given him before kissing him. Her anger. Her smile. The way her blood had soaked him, mixing with his own as he cradled her to his chest, begging her not to leave. His eyes swept instinctively down to her torso, where the crossbow bolt had buried, still unused to her instant recovery.

"Caspian?" Susan tilted her head to the side, watching him stare at her. She couldn't read his expression. "Caspian, are you alright?"

"It is late, your Majesty," Caspian seemed to pull himself together and bowed deeply. "Do you require an escort?"

Susan laughed and glanced behind her, where two Leopards and three armed Mice watched warily. Then she peered over Caspian's shoulder, where his four soldiers stood ready.

"I believe that we are both sufficient in the escort department," Susan joked in her rich voice. "I could however use a friend." With that she stepped to his side, laying her hand on his arm. Caspian seemed about to withdraw, but instead shifted protectively so that she stood between him and the wall before once more resuming his steps.

"The last time you walked with me, you almost died, my Queen," Caspian said quietly, his head down. Susan glanced up at him.

"And I did not. Are you going to ever let that go?"

Caspian didn't reply, his face bleak. Susan sighed, but gave his arm a small squeeze.

"You seem unhappy, Caspian," she stated. Again he said nothing, but his eyes betrayed his feelings. Susan hugged his arm, comfortingly. "I know things are difficult right now, but they _will_ get better. You just have to have faith. Aslan knew what he was doing in making you king. He doesn't make mistakes."

"My Queen sees more than I want her to," he replied, slightly self mocking. "Perhaps we…no, perhaps _I_ am not proceeding the way Aslan would have wanted me to. Each choice I make seems to be the wrong one. I cannot make my people happy."

"And what of us? Do my siblings and I do any better? Do you believe that all the Old Narnians are happy right now? No, but they have something that the Telmarines have had taken from them a long time ago."

Caspian's dark chocolate eyes were locked on her. "What is that?"

"Faith. Faith in a ruler that they know loves them, and will care for them."

"How do I give that to them?" Caspian wondered, looking up at the night sky as they wandered onto a large balcony, overlooking the courtyard. "How does one restore faith in a people?"

"The same way you instill faith in a single person," Susan smiled. "With time, with care, and with love."

Caspian slowed as they reached the wall. Susan leaned into him, as if tired.

"Do you need to retire, my Queen?" Caspian asked her, voice gentle. "You are still weakened."

"In a bit. Right now I have something more important to do."

He did not ask what she meant. He knew that she was already doing it. Instead he tugged her closer, into his chest as he rested his chin against her shoulder. Her arms went about his waist in a much needed hug. They stayed that way for awhile, and for the first time in three days, Caspian just breathed.

* * *

"There are rumors about the castle."

"Oh really? What this time?" The tone in Edmund's voice said he wasn't sure he really wanted to know. At the moment he was a bit preoccupied with trying to avoid Reepicheep's rapier. The Mouse was quite skilled and was pressing Ed terribly, driving him back across the practice court. From her chair, Lucy smiled as the sight of her brother being bested by something so little…and cute!

"They say that Caspian and Susan are…you know."

"I'm quite sure I don't know, Lu," Edmund said, raising an eyebrow. "The words 'you know' can account for a lot of things, some of which require me challenging the good King in defense of my sister's honor. So you might want to be a bit more specific."

At his distraction, Edmund ended up on his back, a tiny blade to his throat.

"Good match, sire," Reepicheep praised, to which Edmund just shook his head in consternation. The Mouse had beaten him every time out, although that's why he liked to practice with him. Pitting yourself against your betters is the best way to improve. "Perhaps a bit of a reprieve?"

Edmund nodded and stood up, walking to Lucy and taking a glass of water from her. He looked at her intently. "Now, what have those two been up to?"

"Oh, Ed, don't be a bore. You know what I mean. As if Susan, or Caspian for that matter, would do anything untoward. I mean that they like each other, that's all."

"And you just figured that one out?" Edmund laughed. "A bit slow in the uptake, dear sister."

"You are in rare form today, aren't you? No, I already knew that, Ed, at least I knew that Caspian cares for her. But now the whole castle has figured it out too."

"And this is a problem, why? It's not as if Su's never had any suitors before. I used to have to beat them off with sticks to get to even talk to her."

"It's a problem because I don't know if Susan feels the same way. And while the Narnians, the Old Narnians that is, are hoping for a match, the Telmarines don't seem as happy about it."

That finally got Edmunds attention and he groaned. "Let me guess. If Susan has Caspian's ear, then perhaps she will try to persuade him in the benefit of the Old Narnians, and away from what's best for the Telmarines."

"Trumpkin says that some of the Black Dwarfs feel the same way with him influencing her,"

"That's rubbish!" Edmund declared, the rise in his voice causing Reepicheep's ears to perk up at attention. The Mouse was ever on guard. "Su's the one that has always had the most sympathy for the darker creatures of Narnia, saying that we should give them more leeway."

"Perhaps they are scared of losing their weight with her. You boys seem to still not care for them too much."

"I have my reasons, Lu."

"Don't I know it!"

"Anyway, have they forgotten that Caspian led them to victory against the Telmarines?"

"Telmarine problem number six hundred and forty-five," Peter spoke up from behind Lucy. He was dressed in his most kingly attire, and although it was only half past noon, he looked weary. "Come you two. We are requested in the Great Council room by his Majesty."

Both Pevensie's groaned. "Why all of us? You certainly didn't mean Lucy, too."

"I did and I do. Come on." Having no choice, they followed their brother through the maze of hallways that led to the council room, Reepicheep in tow. It seemed that council was already in session. Now that Miraz had been dethroned, those lords that had avoided the council out of fear were now in attendance, and the room was quite full. After several arguments over the matter, Peter had eventually convinced Caspian that he should not erect four more thrones upon the dais, even though their stations required it, with the greatest throne for Peter. Instead, they had compromised. A second throne was set next to Caspian's, of equal size, and additional ones added off to the side. To show harmony between the two rulers, without overshadowing Caspian, Peter had said. The distrustful lords at that point had said nothing.

Since then they had grown more bold.

The expression on Caspian's face when the three young monarchs walked into the room was nothing short of stark relief, and he rose and bowed respectfully. Edmund glanced around the tension filled room, ignoring the baleful glares from men two and three times his age. Instead he gave Caspian a cocky grin and bowed with a flourish.

"Your Majesty," Edmund called jovially. "Your timing is impeccable. I had just finished dueling with a Mouse. It is humbling to find yourself bested by those so much _smaller_ than yourself."

Lucy stifled a giggle at the jibe directed at the stuffy lords, and she bobbed a little curtsy. The lords hated the fact that Narnia was now ruled by those they considered mere children. Peter appeared only slightly amused, more long-suffering than anything. He nodded at Caspian, who was obviously enjoying the comment at the council's expense.

"It is well to learn humility, King Edmund," Caspian replied with a tiny smile. "For we shall all be put in our place in good time."

"Well said, King Caspian. Well said."

"Are you done?" Peter asked under his breath. Edmund just smirked and escorted Lucy to their seats. Peter joined Caspian up on the dais. They gripped hands tightly, despite having seen each other at breakfast that morning. It wasn't a deliberate show of unity, instead an unconscious action of two men who had stood shoulder to shoulder ready to die for their beliefs. It had made them close, and co-governing had only brought them closer.

"And where is Queen Susan?" asked Lord Baerd harshly, a pinched faced little man who always looked like he was smelling something unpleasant. "The council summoned _all_ the monarchs of Narnia."

Peter leveled a look at the Telmarine. At the door, Ironhoof, eldest surviving son of the centaur Glenstone and Peter's constant shadow, hissed at the insult.

"This council," Caspian spoke up firmly, "only has the power to summon the Telmarine king. It is a Telmarine Narnian tradition, not an Old Narnian one. As I am beholden to the customs of my people, as are they beholden to the customs of theirs. And it is customary to request the presence of the highest ranking monarch in proceeding of import such as these. They were not _required_ to come."

"The highest ranking Telmarine is yourself, King Caspian," Baerd retorted sourly. "Not them."

"Yes, my lord. _That I am_." The king's voice was a bit droll. "But as a King of Narnia, I am only third in line. I rule within these walls, but Narnia has a High King to which we all must submit to. I for one choose not to test my strength against his…again." Caspian smiled slightly as he nodded at Peter. The High King grinned in return. They hadn't always gotten along as famously as they did now.

"And it is customary for one King or Queen of Narnia to present his or herself to another upon request," Peter added. "If given enough forewarning that is. Queen Susan left early this morning for Aslan's How, before the request was received, so no insult may be perceived. Now, have we settled this, or shall we continue, my lord Baerd?"

"Your Majesty quotes rules and customs unfamiliar to this country," another lord spoke up. "And acts offended when we are unaware."

"It's not your ignorance that offends," Edmund spoke up, still seeming in a good humor. "Ignorance can be easily remedied. Insolence however…"

"Insolence!" Lord Donnon was on his feet now, directing his anger at Caspian. "You give away our lands to barbarians, to _animals_! You lead an army against your own people and you treat the Telmarine crown as second rate! And we are the ones accused of insolence?"

"I am merely working to restore Narnia to its true self," Caspian countered, looking aggrieved. "To right the wrongs committed by our people. I fought to reclaim a throne that was rightfully mine."

"By your words, it was never yours to begin with, your Majesty," Lord Scythley reasoned. "You rule a country gained by hostile takeover. If we must give our lands away to these Old Narnians, should you not abdicate the throne as well? Narnia has their own rulers."

This obviously upset Caspian, and they could see him mulling over the argument. Scythley had a point, and as much as it pained the young King, it was true. It was little Queen Lucy that decided to stop that particular debate.

"Oh, you are all full of rubbish," she said decisively from her chair, which unfortunately was much too big for her. "And Caspian, you're silly if you listen to a word of it. The reason that Caspian is King of Narnia is because Aslan decided that he wanted him to be. It is Aslan that woke the trees that ended the battle, and it is Aslan that said 'Once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen of Narnia.' Caspian is King here, and there's nothing any of you can do about it. If you don't want to stay in Narnia, then no one is keeping you here. Go back to Telmar, or find someplace else. But if you want to stay here, you have to listen to him. And we all have to listen to Peter. That's what Aslan wanted and that's what we shall do."

Silence fell upon the council room, and Peter smiled proudly at his little sister. Valiant indeed.

"Respectfully, sire," Lord Tenneth spoke up from his place near Caspian's chair. "If I may?" Caspian nodded.

"The point of this council was to discuss the disquiet amongst your people, Narnian and Telmarine alike. The changes being implemented aren't going over well. Is it possible that we could address this issue?"

"Tell me what you think, my lord," Caspian encouraged. The older man shook his head.

"My opinions on this will not be pleasing to your ears, your Majesty."

"Then perhaps he needs to hear them, Tenneth," Donnon muttered.

"I am not my Uncle," Caspian said quietly to his general. "No man or Animal should fear speaking his mind before me."

"Then I will tell you the truth as I see it." Tenneth took a deep breath before continuing. "Narnia is on the brink of a civil war. And it is all your Majesties doings."

Not even Edmund had a response to that.

* * *

_"Things are getting out of control."_

_"Good. Is it time?"_

_"Almost. There is one more thing to set in motion."_

_"Will you be ready?"_

_"Most certainly."_

_"And the royals?"_

_"They'll never see it coming." _


	3. Chapter 3

**The Lost Chronicles of Narnia: The Beast of Witherby**

Chapter Three

The Horse was stupendous.

That was the only word that came to mind as Susan sat in the grass, resting with the majority of her people in the shade. It had been a long day already of clearing out rubble and scraping out dirt, and it had been with gratefulness that Susan had flopped down beneath the shadow of Aslan's How. Everyone was taking their lunch and re-gathering their strength, except for a single one. Out in the field before them a young Mare played. She wasn't very old, two or perhaps three, although old enough to have settled down more than this. But the Horse was beautiful, a deep copper color that gleamed in the sunlight, reflecting like a penny. And she alone seemed oblivious to the midday heat, for she seemed unable to stop herself from running back and forth across the open ground, darting and dashing the way a much younger Filly would have. She was fast! Susan didn't think she had ever seen a Horse (which if one didn't already know are much grander than an ordinary horse!) that was this quick footed.

Over to the side a large Herd grazed, all except for one. The Stallion of the group watched with growing disgust, although all his hoof stamping and mane shaking did not make her come act like a proper Horse. He seemed to know that Susan was watching, and finally he trotted over, looking about as embarrassed as a Horse can look. His dappled grey coat had a little sheen of sweat, making him darker than usual, and his heavy black mane could not completely hide the powerfully muscled neck as he moved her way.

"Your Majesty," he said respectfully, pausing just far enough beyond her so that he did not kick dirt up in her skirts. Susan smiled at him. He was quite fine as well, tall and strong with a large hip and delicate legs. A Horse like him would have speed and stamina, a necessary combination for any Narnian Horse that hadn't wished to be captured and enslaved by the Telmarines.

"Sir Horse," Susan dipped her head regally.

"Neeha, my Queen," he replied, coat shaking to dislodge a fly that was biting his leg. A Horse as proud as him would never swish his tail or stamp in front of royalty. It was unseemly. "If you so wish. My true name is quite a bit longer and much harder for the human mouth, or any other for that matter, to say."

"I appreciate you and your herd coming here today, Neeha," Susan said warmly. "We need all the help we can get." The fly was drawing blood, and she gave him another smile. "It will not offend me should you wish to rid yourself of that pest."

The Horse seemed pleased that she had noticed, but did not do anything. As it was said before, it would have been unseemly. Susan understood this and changed the subject.

"That Mare is beautiful," she observed. "Quick on her feet. Is she your progeny?" For a Horse, their lineage was quite important, and it was only proper to address it. This time however Neeha gave his mane a mighty shake, almost in disgust.

"That one is not mine," he told her irritably. "Her Herd was small and she was the only survivor from a particularly bad winter. We found her a year ago, cavorting about by herself, and took her in. Not that it has mattered much, she insists on staying on the outside of the Herd."

His tone was appalled, rightfully so because as all Narnians knew, a Herd's strength was in its closeness and numbers. The fly bit deeper and in his distraction, Neeha flicked his tail with a hard swish, dislodging it. The Mare continued to run, darting and spinning about as if she knew she was the topic of conversation

"I believe her brain has been addled, being left alone as long as she was. Unnatural for a Horse," Neeha decided. "I bed your Majesty's forgiveness for her unseemliness."

"On the contrary, good Horse, I've enjoyed watching her. Perhaps I could meet her?"

The Stallion hesitated momentarily, and then let out a soft snort. He moved closer and stretched his foreleg out in front of him, the other tucked beneath so that he was kneeling. Surprised and pleased to be offered to be carried by such a noble Horse, Susan did her best to climb on gracefully without too much pulling or tugging. He was a rather tall horse! He waited until sure she was securely seated, and then Neeha straightened, rising to his full height. He set off at a gentle lope across the meadow. Susan couldn't help wishing that he would just run, because the only thing more wonderful than a fast horse like Destrier was a fast Horse.

As if sensing her excitement, Neeha lengthened his stride, covering more and more ground with each step. Yet it was obvious that he was taking great care in not disrupting her. He was a seasoned Stallion, and able to gauge her balance precisely. It was a pity when he finally slowed to a smooth baby trot, not bouncy at all, and brought her near the Mare.

"Her name is Haana," your Majesty, Neeha informed her. "Her true name is even longer than mine. Haana! Stop your cavorting at once. The Queen wants to speak with you." Haana, the Mare, spun around and continued to prance, her neck arched proudly and tail fanning behind her. But she did come closer.

"Has she bored of your stuffy ways so quickly?" the Mare asked the Stallion, rolling her eyes coquettishly. Neeha let out a snort of irritation, his ears flicking backwards briefly.

"I've enjoyed watching you, Haana," Susan said smoothly, hoping to head off any disputes. The Mare preened and came to a stop, a bit too close for Neeha's liking as she kicked up her heels.

"Watch yourself, young one. This is the Queen of Narnia."

"Then perhaps she should be mounted better," Haana teased. "Perhaps her Majesty would be better suited with me."

The Stallion rolled his eyes, showing the whites.

"The day you carry the queen is the day I will tie my own tail into a knot," he declared. "I told you she was a bit addled, Queen Susan."

The Mare laughed, and Susan grinned.

"The offer is appreciated, Haana," she said. "However it may be that you are too fast for someone like me." This time the Mare was quite pleased. If you hadn't noticed, the Narnian Horse was a noble creature, and as susceptible to flattery as any of the rest of us. For the first time the Mare stopped completely, and dipped her delicate nose in Susan's direction.

"My Queen," Haana said respectfully. Susan nodded back.

"Amazing…" Neeha murmured mockingly. "She can have manners."

His answer was dust in his nostrils as the Mare spun and darted away. Susan laughed as he trotted away, shaking his head.

"Again my apologies," he told her. "She is not one of mine." As if that was all he needed to say. Susan touched his neck lightly.

"We are all wild at our own times," she said to the Horse. "As we are all gentle in others. There is nothing to be forgiven."

"Would you like to return straightaway?"

"I'm enjoying the ride very much."

"Ahh, then if her Majesty approves, we shall have a good run!"

Laughing, Susan gripped his mane (which has no nerve endings and could not hurt him) tightly. Once he knew she was ready, the Horse leapt ahead. With the wind in her face and the mighty Neeha between her knees, she couldn't remember being happier to be in Narnia.

* * *

"Oh, Edmund, come and look!"

"What is it, Lu?" The girl had been hanging out of her brother's window, watching the clouds roll slowly past when she had become so excited. Edmund had just finished beating Trumpkin in a bout of chess, and he was feeling indulgent.

"Look! There's a Herd out beyond the city! Aren't they marvelous?"

"A Herd? I suppose it's not a bad idea, there is good grazing there. How many do you suppose?"

"Oh, fifty at least! Can we go greet them?"

"I don't see why not."

Happily Lucy led her brother through the castle and down to the stables. It was a fair bit from here to the outside of the city, and neither of them felt like walking. On the way they met Susan, who had just returned from spending three days and night at Aslan's How (They had all been taking turns.).

"Did you see the Horses, Lucy?" Susan asked her sister, giving her a tired hug.

"Yes, have they come to stay?"

"For awhile. It is Neeha's herd, and he has decided to see what this Telmarine business is all about. Plus I told him about the apple orchard not too far away."

"Bribery, Su?" Edmund chuckled. "I didn't think you had it in you."

The eldest sister just shrugged. "It's about time we showed the Telmarines more of the beauty of Narnia. And it wouldn't hurt to have them as a second watch on the palace. The last thing we need is to be taken surprise by invaders looking to take advantage of Narnia right now."

"Bribery and strategy. Soon you'll be taking sword fighting up as well." Edmund teased, to which Susan rolled her eyes.

"I don't need to, brother," she said smugly. "If I wanted to drop you where you stood I would only have to draw my bow."

"In all seriousness, Su, it wouldn't hurt for you to learn. You might need it sometime." She just laughed it off, concentrating more on her need for a hot bath right now than a sword fighting lesson.

"I'll take my chances, Ed," Susan called over her shoulder as she disappeared up to the castle. "See you both at dinner tonight."

Lucy was tugging at his arm, drawing attention back to herself.

"Edmund! The Horses?"

"Alright Lu," he said indulgently. "Whatever you wish."

* * *

The High King had a headache.

The reason for said headache was stomping back and forth across the conference room, his small feet making much more noise than Peter would have ever thought possible.

"This is ridiculous, your Majesty," Finderblast the Black Dwarf growled. "My kin and I didn't fight and bleed and die for you lot just to have nothing to show for it."

"What exactly do you mean, good Dwarf?" Peter asked, wishing that he didn't have to. Finderblast was here as a representative of the Black Dwarves and as High King, he was required to give a fair audience.

"Caspian promised us back our land! Land that was stolen from us by this disgusting lot of Telmarines. But I don't see none of us getting anything but dirty looks from the townsfolk. I want what was taken from us! And I don't mean just land, your Majesty. These _humans_," the word was said derisively, "have raped our ancestral homes of all the best metals and precious jewels. And it's about time we had back what should have been ours!"

"Finderblast," Peter said patiently. "I can't just walk into the Telmarines' homes and take everything of value they have, splitting it up between all the Narnians. It doesn't work that way."

"And yet they had no problems doing it to us all those years ago," was the growled reply.

"Narnians are once more free to live out in the open as they used to, whether they live here or in any other part of Narnia," Peter felt like he was explaining for the hundredth time. "Any Telmarine that has a problem with that will either need to leave Narnia, or learn to live with it. With _us_. But there's plenty of land left in this country and there's plenty of spoils for the taking, should you dwarves decide you want to go back to mining. But that doesn't mean that you can raid Telmarine homes because it's easier."

Ahh, he had struck a nerve there. Peter saw Finderblast start to turn a bit red in the face. He probably hadn't realized that the High King knew about the outland raiding. He probably also didn't realize that the increase in both Narnian and Telmarine soldiers in the outlands was due to growing complaints from Telmarine commoners that thieves were sneaking into their homes and stealing their life savings.

"We just want back what is ours, your Majesty," the dwarf held his ground, although a bit deflated.

"You have your freedom again, good dwarf. You have the ability to move about Narnia without risk of harm and you have the right to live wherever you chose, assuming it is not _already_ occupied." Peter leveled him a pointed look. "There was no promise to drive the Telmarines out. In fact, had you lot all not made such a fuss about us leaving again and changed Aslan's mind, my siblings and I would be back in England. Caspian would be your _only_ King. You wouldn't expect him to drive out his whole people from Narnia, would you?"

"Would've been nice," Finderblast muttered.

"I think you're thinking about this the wrong way," Peter suddenly changed tactics. "Narnians, the Old Narnians that is, are pretty poor right now. In truth, the reconstruction of Aslan's How and eventually Cair Paravel will be financed by the Telmarines, as agreed upon by King Caspian."

"As it should be," he was interrupted. Peter simply looked at Finderblast until the dwarf once more was quelled beneath his gaze.

"As I was saying, us Narnians don't have much right now. Centuries of living in hiding does that to a people. But now you are able to mine freely, within your own lands, and I can tell you it won't be the Squirrels and the Fauns that come looking to buy your silvers and gems. Use this time to your advantage, Finderblast. Find good mining lands, obtain them legally, and profit from your new countrymen. Because like it or not, both the Narnians and the Telmarines are here to stay. Try to make the best of it. And if you Black Dwarves don't get the jump on the market, I can bet some of the other, more easy going dwarves, just might."

That was plain enough. Finderblast stared at the High King in frustration, his mind obviously racing to try to work some advantage from the king.

"The hills south of here only have a few inhabitants," Finderblast finally said, teeth grinding. "They're using the land for farming when it would be better served as mining. There's plenty of farmland around that's just as good."

"Then you should speak to Caspian about it, and see if all of you can work out an arrangement. I will not approve moving anyone out of their homes, compensated or not, without Caspian's agreement."

That was as good as the dwarf was going to get. Finderblast nodded, face still unhappy, but he bowed a proper bow to the King. Peter waited until he was gone and the door was shut before letting out a loud groan.

"I think I liked them better when they were on the other side," he muttered to himself. At the back of the room, Ironhoof chuckled.

"You cannot choose whom you are King over, your Majesty," Ironhoof said sagely. "You can only choose the kind of king you will be."

"How about the kind of king that hides in the basement for the rest of the day and lets Caspian deal with it instead?" Peter joked, standing up and stretching. "Do you think I can get from here to the kitchens without getting stopped half a dozen times? It's still a few hours until dinner and I'm in need of a roll or two."

"It depends on how angry I look," the centaur rumbled, a touch of a smirk on his face.

"Well then, by all means my friend. Make them tremble."

The plan almost worked. True to his word, Ironhoof adopted a scowl the moment they left the conference room, and as they passed through the castle halls, Telmarine and Narnian alike stepped out of their way. Neither one realized that the very real expression of exasperation on Peter's face kept the people at bay almost as much as the centaur did. Peter could smell the delicious scent of freshly baked bread, and was almost into the kitchens when a voice stopped him.

"Your Majesty," a deep Telmarine accent spoke up behind him. Putting on his most tolerant smile, which actually came out as a grimace, Peter turned around. Ironhoof's glare deepened.

"Yes?" It was lords Scythley and Baerd, looking for all the world like they were up to something.

The Telmarine nobles bowed low.

"We must speak to you on matter of most urgency, your Majesty." Wondering why they were taking it up with him and not Caspian, Peter sighed and turned around. Let those two corner him in a room and he'd never leave, bread or no. Peter started walking back down the halls, the lords in tow, hoping this would be something that he could easily fix and get back for a quick snack.

It wasn't.

* * *

"We need to stop meeting like this, my queen," Caspian said quietly as Susan approached him, guards in tow and pulling off her riding gloves. But his eyes showed his pleasure. "The people will begin to talk."

"The people already do talk, Caspian," Susan reminded him as they fell into step together. "But I'm allowed to have a friend," she stated stubbornly.

"A friend you have, my queen," he told her, giving her a shy smile, which she returned. They walked a ways, slowing down and unconsciously drawing out their time together. Susan was abnormally quiet and after a bit, he ventured to ask her why.

"Is something wrong, your Majesty?" He seemed worried about the prospect. She didn't answer for a moment, but then finally blurted out her concern.

"Why do you never call me Susan? In private you call my brothers and sister by their names, but never with me. Why is that?"

Her words took him by surprise and Caspian was slow to answer. "Perhaps…I am less comfortable in dropping the formality with you, my queen," he admitted.

"But Caspian, why? I thought we were closer than that." Susan wrapped her arms about herself unhappily. She was very much aware of the fact that she needed a bath, and that her clothes were dusty from riding. If he noticed, he didn't act like it.

"Aye." He seemed to blush and grew even quieter. "Perhaps it is necessary for the formality."

"Caspian, you're not making any sense," Susan was growing vexed. It has to be forgiven, because by this point she'd had a very tiring day and she felt quite a mess.

"My queen…"

"Susan. My name is Susan. Or shall I start calling you your Majesty every time I see you? Or perhaps you'd rather I call you nothing at all if I'm such a bother—Umph!"

Her words were cut off suddenly as a pair of very strong arms wrapped around her, and Susan found herself being swept back from the hallway, into a small alcove. Her hands went instinctively to Caspian's shoulders, gasping as her back was pressed firmly into the stone wall. He was so much taller than her that he had lifted her toes almost off the floor, his mouth next to her ear.

"You are not a bother, my queen," Caspian's voice had deepened and sounded raw, making Susan shiver. "And it is that formality which reminds me how very dear you are to me. It reminds me how much respect I have for you, and how I should not be doing what I am doing right now."

"What _are_ you doing?" she asked him breathlessly, heart racing and lost beneath his passionate words.

"Begging allowance to kiss you, my lady…" His breath was hot on her neck and Susan gripped him tighter.

"Caspian…" Her slim hand wrapped behind his neck as she turned his face towards hers. That was all the permission he needed. Or maybe that was all it took to break through his restraint, which had been slipping dangerously each time that she was near him. Caspian let out a soft groan and gathered her up closer to his body, fingers buried in her thick hair as he tipped her head back. This kiss was much different than the first. This time Caspian knew it was coming, and he was prepared. This time he let himself enjoy it, the feel of her against him, her soft lips on his. This time he kissed her deeper, showing her just how badly he had wanted to do this.

An uncomfortable cough from Tenneth brought Caspian back to reality, and he heard distant footsteps. It wouldn't do for anyone to see them in such a compromising position, in public no less! Feeling a great sense of loss, Caspian broke off the kiss, spinning her back into the hall and putting her back on her feet. They were walking again, half blocked from view by his guards before Susan had any idea what was happening. It was a good thing too, because it was none other than the High King, deep in conversation with Ironhoof. Peter gave Caspian and Susan a curt nod before returning his attention to the centaur.

Susan was flushed and breathing heavily, glancing at Caspian out of the corner of her eye. They reached the next hallway, where he had originally intended on parting ways. Unable to leave her without saying something, no matter who was watching, he took her hand and whispered in her ear.

"If it never happens again, I will still die a happy man. Regardless, you shall always be my beloved queen." He raised her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss lightly across her knuckles before bowing deeply.

"My King, the masons await," Tenneth reminded him respectfully, catching Caspian's eye and indicating that Lord Baerd and Lord Scythley were watching intently. Baerd was looking strangely smug. Regretfully Caspian let go of Susan's hand and slipped away. Breathlessly Susan watched him go.

"Your Majesty?" Peepicheek, her Mouse guard, seemed unsure. "Do you require a defense of your honor?" Obviously the monarchs' behaviors had the Narnian confused. Susan just smiled, a bit of a silly smile, and shook her head.

"No, good Knight," Susan replied, sweeping down the hall regally, ignoring the watching eyes of Telmarine nobles. Once out of earshot she allowed herself to touch her lips lightly. "His Majesty is a perfect gentleman."

Satisfied and very proud of his King, Peepicheek put it out of his mind and focused once more on protecting Narnia's beloved Queen.

* * *

_"Is it ready?"_

_"You're so impatient. These things take careful planning."_

_"Is it __**ready**__?"_

_"…Yes."_

* * *

Something was bothering Peter.

It was obvious by the way he played with his supper, and more obvious by the way he kept glancing furtively at Susan each time he thought that she wasn't looking. Finally Susan had had enough, and she set her soup spoon down with a clang.

"Alright Peter, spill." She gave him a stern glare. Peter shifted uncomfortably.

"I…" he seemed very hesitant to say what was on his mind. "Oh bother."

"Come on, Pete," Edmund said around a large mouthful of bread. "It can't be that bad."

"Well...here's the thing. I was cornered by Lord Scythley and Lord Baerd today." Susan's head snapped up and her eyes narrowed.

"And?" she asked, a dangerous tone to her voice. Peter sighed.

"They expressed some concerns."

"About what?" Susan demanded, although she was sure she already knew the answer.

"They feel like…perhaps you aren't the best influence on Caspian," Peter mumbled.

"_Excuse_ me?"

"They think that Caspian is getting distracted by you, in a time when he needs his focus completely on his people. And I have to admit, I don't completely disagree."

"That's preposterous, Peter," Susan declared, obviously offended. "I am no more of a distraction on him then Lucy is with her causes, or Edmund with his jokes, or you with your insistence that he always be nearby."

"It's not that, Su." Peter leaned in towards her seriously. "It's just that people are starting to talk about you two. I mean after that kiss when we thought we were leaving, and how often you two go walking late at night…," Her eyes had widened at his implications. "I know the rumors are rubbish, but even the Narnians are starting to wonder. And the Telmarines think that perhaps more is going on than just late night strolls."

"Whoever dares say such a thing will find the sharp end of my sword," growled a deep voice from the doorway. It was Caspian, looking quite vexed. They had believed he wouldn't make dinner that night with them, but he had rushed through his last meetings. Now he was staring daggers at Peter.

"I am offended that you would believe such lies, your Majesty," Caspian drew himself up stiffly, his hand resting on his sword. "And I stand ready to defend both her Majesty's honor and my own."

"Oh, calm down, Caspian," Peter groaned, leaning back in his chair. "Did you miss the part where I said I _don't_ believe it?"

The young monarch relaxed only minutely, his stance wary as he made his way to his usual seat.

"Then why are these ridiculous insinuations being discussed?"

"Because even if we know better, the people don't," Peter admitted, casting an apologetic glance at his sister. "The last thing we need right now is a scandal that diminishes the respect for the Narnian throne."

Susan drew herself up. "In all my years as Queen I never once was subject to something as…stupid as this!"

"This isn't the Narnia we once knew, Su," Edmund grunted.

"Isn't there something we could do?" Lucy piped up, worriedly looking back and forth. She privately had hoped for an understanding between Susan and Caspian…but this wouldn't help.

"Short of you and Su staying away from each?" Peter said frankly to Caspian, "Probably not." Up until this point Caspian had not looked at Susan or the others, and instead his eyes were riveted on the High King. But at the suggestion, his eyes flickered to where she sat glowering at Peter.

"May I speak to you privately, your Majesty?" Caspian requested formally, his voice unreadable.

"I've lost my appetite anyway," Susan declared, still glaring at Peter. As she rose, Lucy jumped up as well.

"Oh Susan, don't be mad…" they could hear Lu begging her sister as the two left the room. Edmund continued eating, oblivious to the looks from the two Kings.

"What?" he finally demanded, taking another mouthful. "I'm still hungry! Talk about Su all you like. It's nothing I haven't heard before anyway, what with all the suitors that used to come calling…what a bother _they_ were." He seemed ignorant of the effect his words were having on Caspian, or maybe he knew and just was having fun.

_Munch_.

"I mean, you should have seen it, Caspian. What stupidity! Every single bloke that walked through the doors seemed to lose either his wits or his lunch when she came around. As if there would ever be a girl that would make me act so foolish…certainly not one like Su. She's alright I guess, for a sister, but really. Every time I used to think I was fancying a lady too much, I would just pop in on tea and watch those fellas make idiots out of themselves and it would straighten me up right quick. I'd go out and ride a Horse or do something else to distract myself…I had quite a nice charger for awhile. Name was Breeny something…"

"Edmund," Peter groaned, watching Caspian's eye blaze. "You're really not helping. And after three plates I think you've had enough, haven't you?"

Edmund managed to look quite disgusted, although by the gleam in his eye, Peter suspected Ed was just sporting with them. It was true he was used to Su's suitors, and had always enjoyed giving them a bit of a hard time. What brother wouldn't?

"Fine. I get it. Caspian gets the girl and I get kicked out of dinner," Edmund grumbled, grabbing his plate and heading for the door. "That's rich." He was still muttering as the door closed, leaving the two young monarchs alone. After a moment of tense silence both spoke at once.

"I swear upon my throne that I would never dishonor--"

"I know that nothing inappropriate is going on--"

They both stopped. Caspian lowered his head slightly, indicating for Peter to continue as his right by rank.

"Look, Caspian. I'm not trying to offend you or Susan…especially not Su," he added ruefully. "But I also think I need to know the truth. What is this thing between you two?"

Caspian sighed and leaned back in his chair, eyes unconsciously drifting to the door the girls had disappeared through.

"Honestly, Peter, I wish I could tell you." Caspian ran his hand through his hair. "I have the utmost respect for her majesty. Her company is…dear to me. In her presence I find myself more at peace. But there is much I don't understand right now, and her feelings are one such thing. I can only say that I…care for her."

"Care?" the High King pressed. "Is that all?"

"Any feelings beyond that must remain private to me," Caspian said simply. "For if the Queen regards me as more than a friend, than she has not said anything."

Peter sighed and pushed his plate away.

"We have to do something to keep the rumors in check," he said. "If not for your sake, then at least for Susan's."

"What do you propose we do?"

"I have an idea, but Su's going to hate the concept of it."

As he explained, Caspian's frown turned into a look of dismay.

"She will be even more angry than she is now," the Telmarine king said sadly. "Perhaps it would be best if I just kept myself completely away from her."

"Knowing Susan, that won't go over any better." Peter gave Caspian a knowing smirk. "And by the expression on your face after mussing her in the hall yesterday, I doubt you could stay away for long."

Caspian flushed red, looking down in embarrassment.

"As my High King, and as her Majesty's guardian, I will submit to any decision that to make upon the matter." He tone was sincere but Caspian's eyes betrayed his unhappiness.

"My decision is that you should try to take what good things from life that you can, my friend. You never know what will happen tomorrow." Caspian looked up swiftly. Peter reached across the table and gripped his arm. "And if you are the one to finally make Su happy, then I support the pairing wholeheartedly. You are a second brother to me, Caspian."

Caspian returned the grip strongly, giving Peter a small smile.

They remained there for a while, neither one eating, but both sipping wine slowly. They had spent many of their evenings like this, sometimes quiet and sometimes animated, but always trying their best to decide what was in the best interest of their nations. Tonight the discussion remained focused on the progress at Aslan's How, and the complicated logistics of repairing something catapults had torn apart. Therefore the two monarchs were still deep in discussion when Reepicheep came bolting into the room, gasping and covered in soot.

"Your Majesties! _Fire_!"

* * *

His city was burning.

Ignoring the cry from Peter, Caspian dashed through the courtyard. Near the stables a dark horse spun in circles, its terrified young groom clinging to the bridle in an attempt to control the plunging beast. Without thinking the king jerked the reins from the boy and swung himself up on the animal's bare back. With a cry he spurred it forward, and the horse leapt out at a run. The night sky was a dull orange and the air was full of thick smoke as Caspian galloped across the great stone bridge. On the far side, flames rose high above the city's roofline. The homes were made of stone and brick, a safety precaution set in decades ago when the last terrible fire nearly destroyed the city. He didn't understand how everything seemed to be on ablaze! This shouldn't be happening!

Inside the city was chaos, with people plunging around, panicking.

"Water!" Caspian roared, trying to be heard over the noise. "Get to the wells and bring water!" Some heard and obeyed. Some continued to flee in fear.

"Help me!" someone screamed, and Caspian twisted the horse in a circle, desperately casting around for the source of the cry.

Frantic Telmarines flooded the streets, some trying to escape, some trying to bring water to put out the flames. But there was too much…Buckets from a well wouldn't stop this. The smoke was filling Caspian's lungs, and stinging his eyes so he could barely see. A second scream and he finally saw her three houses down, a young woman on the second story, leaning out the window and waving frantically. In her arms she held a wailing child and behind her Caspian could see the flames. Spurring the frightened horse, he rushed to the house, realizing that there would be no entrance from the downstairs. Already the fire was spreading out the front door, lighting a large stack of firewood nearby. Horses are scared of fire, but this one was more scared of Caspian as he wrenched it around to bring it back under control.

"Jump!" Caspian yelled up to her, raising his arm up. "Lady, please you have to jump!"

A loud crash inside the house made her scream and she leaned as far out the window as she could, trying to lower her child to Caspian.

"You must jump now!" Caspian cried as a wave of heat struck his face, controlling the horse with his knees only now, reaching for the woman and the youngster. Crying out in pain from the burning, but still too scared to jump, the woman dropped her son, who fell straight into Caspian's arms. Sliding off the horse with the boy held tightly, Caspian raced to the nearest Telmarine, pushing the child into his arms.

"Take care of him!" he shouted the order then spun on his heel. Eyes huge, the Telmarine watched as his young king ran towards a burning pile of firewood. Sparks flew as he leapt off the top of it with a mighty shove, grabbing the architecture below the second story window as he dangled. The Telmarine could hear the king's cry, his hands burning as he climbed up into the window and disappeared. Before he could think to ask for help, the Telmarine was shoved sideways and pushed through the streets, as the people ran screaming.

He never saw Caspian come back out.

* * *

There's only so much you can do before you have to just let it burn. Even if you're the High King of Narnia, there's only so much you can do.

Ironhoof helped Peter up the steps of the entryway, where he dropped gracelessly. Deep choking coughs shook his chest, but there was nothing that anyone could do about it. The amount of smoke he had inhaled had left his lungs aching and throat raw, and it was obvious that speech was momentarily beyond him.

"Your Majesty, Queen Lucy is coming," Ironhoof rasped, his voice affected as well. Peter nodded and continued coughing, the centaur's hand on his shoulder supportively.

"Peter!" Susan's cry echoed across the courtyard. She was running towards him, Lucy in tow. The look of horror on Lucy's face made Peter realize how badly off he appeared. He was covered head to toe in soot, and the cut on his forehead was bleeding badly, as head wounds often did.

"I'm alright, Lu," Peter tried to tell her as the little queen dropped to her knees next to him, fumbling with the stopper of her diamond bottle. She had tears in her eyes as the words brought more coughing.

"You look terrible," she sniffed, trying to push the cordial at him, but he waved her off.

"Good thing looks aren't everything," Peter tried to joke between hacks. "I mean it, Lucy, I'm fine. Save that for those who need it more."

"Oh Peter, what happened?" Susan asked, tears in her own eyes as she watched them try to contain what was left of the fire. Lucy was busy pressing her kerchief to Peter's forehead, which he allowed grudgingly. Someone passed him a water flask, and after several long drinks, the High King's voice started to return a bit more.

"I don't know. There's no way that a fire should have grown that fast. It's almost as if it had started in more than one place." The worry in his eyes was reflected in Lucy's.

"You don't mean that you think someone started them on purpose, do you?" Lucy cried. "That's so dreadful!"

"Where's Edmund?" Susan suddenly demanded, sounding shrill.

"Right here," his voice made them turn. Although not as bad as Peter, Edmund was covered in his share of soot. He was holding something in his arms.

"I wasn't much help though," he admitted, "I got down here too late. I was able to save _something_." A pair of very huge eyes peeked over the king's sleeve. It was a calico kitten, quite tiny, and it was trembling. Its little claws dug into Edmund's arm as he lifted it up. He winced.

"Here Lu, why don't you take her. Careful of her claws, she can hook you good!"

Still sniffing, and quite aware that she was being deliberately distracted, Lucy took the kitten and tucked it into her skirts to keep it safe.

"What are we going to do?" Edmund asked Peter, his eyes on the now partially destroyed city. It made him sick to his stomach. There was no way that everyone could've survived this.

"It's not up to us," Peter replied, dragging himself up to his feet. "Caspian has authority. All we can do is try to help him and everyone else as much as possible."

To help Caspian they had to find him first. By now the fires were almost entirely contained, leaving charred walls and crying people in its wake. Lucy stopped many times as they moved through the town, helping all that she could. Many were already gone when their desperate friends and family brought them forth. There was nothing that she could do, and by the time they had reached the center plaza, Susan had her arm around Lucy's shoulders, holding her steady.

A single figure sat by the fountain, his back to them. Head bent, the young Telmarine king seemed lost in thought as they slowly made their way to his side. Off to his right a young woman sat huddled on the ground, burned but alive, cradling her crying son. Peter opened his mouth to say something, to ask why Caspian was simply sitting there, then his mouth clamped shut. He was about to tell Susan to keep Lucy away, but it was too late. A choked sob escaped Lu's throat, and she spun, burying her face against Susan's chest. The elder queen stood in shock, then slid to the ground, holding her sobbing sister tightly as big teardrops rolled silently down her cheeks. Peter looked down and Edmund turned away.

Caspian, King of the Telmarines, King of Narnia, Beloved of Aslan, bowed his head. In his arms he held the body of a little girl, about Lucy's age, one of the many losses of that awful night. The physical proof of his failure. In his arms he held that which he was supposed to protect with his life. His people.

The king wept.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Lost Chronicles of Narnia: The Beast of Witherby**

Chapter Four

If it had been up to Caspian, he would have spent the rest of the week in his rooms, mourning the loss of that little girl and all the others that died in the fire. Unfortunately as King, he didn't have that option. It was made quite clear before the sun had finished rising above the mountains that the civil war that Lord Tenneth had warned about was on his doorstep.

"Your Majesty, you must come quickly," the general said as soon as he found the king. Caspian had taken refuge with his thoughts inside the stables, brushing Destrier and ignoring the confused stable boy who kept trying to do it for him. Caspian hadn't said a word to anyone, not even the Pevensies the night before. He had not slept, and he would not eat. The dark circles around reddened eyes had nothing to do with the remaining smoke.

"King Caspian!" Lord Tenneth grabbed the young monarch by the shoulder. "My lord, the Narnians are being blamed for the fires. The Narnians think they are being set up. There's going to be great bloodshed if you don't do something!"

"And what if I don't know what to do, general?" The soft admittance made Tenneth take a step back, then lower his head.

"My lord…"

"Whether it's true or not, I have to side with half of my people against the other half. I will lose half of my kingdom today and I don't know how to stop it. Tutors do not teach you these things, Tenneth," Caspian whispered bitterly. Tenneth's head rose and he knelt down in front of his king.

"My lord, if there is anyone who will know what to do, it is you. You may be young, but you are a better king then any I have served, including your father." He beseeched Caspian. "But if you do nothing, then you will lose your whole kingdom. You alone are the tie that binds us together."

Caspian said nothing, then with a sigh turned towards his general.

"Is there a Horse about?"

"My King?"

"A Narnian Horse? They would not be in a stable. Can you find me one?"

"At once my lord." Tenneth didn't question the command, even though he didn't understand the reasoning behind it. It was enough for him that his monarch was once more taking control. It took quite a bit of questioning, but finally a young centaur was able to help him find what he was looking for. And Tenneth was quite proud that only twenty precious minutes had passed by before he returned to Caspian, a huge grey Horse with him.

"The Stallion Neeha, my King," Tenneth introduced them with all the politeness he had learned from the other Narnians. The sheer size and strength of the Horse had even the general intimidated.

"Neeha, do you know what has transpired?" Caspian asked in a clipped voice. The Stallion dipped his head in acknowledgment, eyeing Tenneth warily.

"There will be trouble soon, King Caspian of the Telmarines," Neeha replied.

"Of the Narnians as well," Caspian reminded him. The Stallion was silent a moment, then dipped his nose a second time. Only a few Horses had fought at the How, so they had been slow to accept him as king.

"Your Majesty."

"Will you help me stop this, Neeha?"

"His majesty requires a show of power," the Stallion mused thoughtfully.

"I require your pledge. Do I have it?" Caspian stood tall in front of the Horse, which was easily nineteen hands if he was a foot, as it stared him down, judging him. For a moment, he believed that he would not get it, then finally the Horse snorted.

"As King of Narnia, beneath the High King, I pledge my Herd to follow you, King Caspian."

'Caspian let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Good. Now, we must act quickly."

"Then it is only proper that you ride me," Neeha suggested smugly. "For I am the quickest of them all."

As the Horse shot out of the castle with the young king on his back, Caspian knew it was true.

* * *

"You burned my shop!" a man roared, shaking his fist at the Faun that stood before him wide eyed. At the Faun's feet a Dog growled. They were on the outskirts of the city, and around them a large crowd had gathered, angry and muttering.

"Me? You Telmarine fool, I've been here all night fetching water to _stop_ the fires!" The Faun was quite incensed to be using such a tone.

"It's you Narnians!" another Telmarine, an elderly woman cried out. "Ever since you showed up, everything's gone wrong! You're a curse upon the land!"

"The only curse is the Telmarine swine that took this land from us!" stepped forth a Minotaur, his deep rumbling voice making the crowd take a step back.

"You're beasts and animals! We've lost so many lives because of you!"

"You took our homes _and_ our lives!" a Bulgy Bear cried out in response.

"Our ancestors did that," a Telmarine soldier declared. "Not us. You, however killed my brother at Aslan's How, and now my home is ashes! What more will you take from us before you are satisfied?"

"We didn't start these fires!" the Faun yelled, trying to get the crowd to understand.

"And we didn't burn our OWN homes to the ground! The only ones who died were Telmarine, and not a single Narnian. Can you explain that?"

"I don't have too!" the Minotaur roared, and the soldier drew his sword, slashing at him. The Minotaur yowled in pain and the crowd behind him let out a roar of fury at seeing blood split.

"For Narnia!" A dwarf cried, drawing a short sword and throwing himself at the soldier, only half aware of the deep thundering sound about them.

"**ENOUGH**!"

The command was so loud that it cut through the angry mob, making everyone look over. The crowd parted nervously as a huge Horse (for there was no mistaking it!) galloped into the center of the group. It made no pause as it moved, and so more than one hapless individual was forced to throw themselves sideways to avoid being run over. Unsaddled and unbridled, upon its back sat King Caspian, his dark hair wild as the Stallion plunged and reared in the circle, quick hooves clearing space around it.

"Weapons down!" Caspian ordered. Both the soldier and the Dwarf stared. "**NOW**!"

The Stallion let out an awful scream and leapt forward upon the dwarf, forefoot striking at its hand. The dwarf cried out in pain and fear and fell back, clutching his wrist. The Telmarine soldier had tried to back away but the crowd wouldn't let him. Looking terrified, he threw his sword down even as the Horse swung around, rearing up above him. The Telmarine stumbled and hit his knees, blocking himself with his arms desperately, knowing he was about to be trampled. Yet somehow the great hooves came down only inches in front of him.

"All of you, weapons down!"

Eyes stared in horror, but still held on to their swords and knives and pitchforks. At their reluctance the Stallion screamed again. If anyone has heard this before, they know that it is a sound that weakens even the strongest of spines. But as the Stallion plunged once more into the crowd, sending Narnians and Telmarine alike flying out of its way, the sound was echoed from all about them. The thunder had grown louder, and the crowd realized that it was no storm. A sea of Horses had encircled them, and were running and rearing and kicking, like living waves. It was like being caught it a barrel with no way out, and the people milled about each other nervously. The Stallion reared up and Caspian raised one arm above his head (a prearranged signal, but no one else knew that). The whole Herd suddenly came to a halt, and the lack of noise was deafening. The Stallion remained in the air, the whites of his great eyes showing, the furious king somehow secure on his bare back.

As one the people dropped their weapons. Caspian lowered his hand and the Stallion's front feet hit the ground, but he still snorted, nostrils flaring.

Caspian hadn't thought this through very much. He had intended on trying to mediate the crowd, if he had managed to get them under control. But as hundreds of eyes stared up at him, the smell of his burnt city in his nose, the young king was filled with rage. The Stallion was reacting to his King's anger, and he bared his teeth frightfully.

"Who DARES this?" Caspian roared, looking about the crowd. "After all we have suffered, who DARES shed the blood of my people?"

"Your majesty," a brave man spoke up, although in just a whisper. "These Narnians have only hurt us…"

"These Narnians? YOU ARE ALL NARNIANS!"

His bellow made them all flinch back. "Everyone here is a NARNIAN! And if that is beyond you, then GO! Take your foolish selves somewhere else, because I will NOT have my country divided!" The Stallion spun around as Caspian drew his sword, the sound of steel cutting through the air. He pointed the tip of the sword at the crowd.

"And I tell you this now. You are all MY subjects. And be you human or dwarf or Creature, if you raise hand or hoof to any of MY subjects, you will not live out the day in my country. Whoever started the fires, be them Old Narnian or Telmarine, they have attacked MY people. They have attacked all of you! And when I find them they will be punished for the lives they have destroyed. If anyone here challenges me on this, then do it NOW!"

Of course no one even considered being so foolish.

"This is no longer two nations, it is one. And this fighting will end. I AM YOUR KING, NARNIANS, AND YOU WILL OBEY ME!"

The silence was deafening. Then, the Telmarine soldier dropped into a kneel, and the dwarf grudgingly did the same. Behind them the others followed suit, until hundreds bowed before Caspian. Upon the outskirts, the Horses had dipped their noses all well. The Stallion snorted proudly, as if pleased with itself. Neeha turned and gingerly weaved his way back through the kneeling people, careful not to step on a single finger or toe. Upon his back, Caspian kept his head high, his chest rising and falling rapidly from the adrenaline. That's when he noticed something. Higher up in the city, where they had a full view of their people, stood the Kings and Queens of Old.

Caspian meet eyes with Peter, wondering how he would take this. In front of everyone, the High King tilted his head respectfully to Caspian, and actually seemed pleased. Caspian bowed back, realizing that Lucy was beaming at him. Edmund simply had a look of stark relief on his face, glad that the bloodshed had stopped at one cut and not caring about the politics of it. Caspian couldn't read Susan's expression but as he passed by, the Stallion chose to do something of his own accord. You can't blame Neeha, for he was fond of Susan and didn't know. But the people saw that as King Caspian nodded politely to Queen Susan, Neeha rose up on his haunches once more, before dropping down in a sort of complicated bow. Shocked, then pleased, Queen Susan curtseyed deeply in reply.

The crowd took it a bit differently than what it had meant. That's only to be expected.

* * *

_"You fool! We are worse off than ever!"_

_"You are the fool if you believe that."_

_"…You act as if you knew this would happen."_

_"Hmmmm…didn't I?"_

* * *

Peter found Caspian high up on the battlements. It was near nightfall, and up until this point he had respected Caspian's request to be left alone. But as the sun slipped out of sight in the western sky, the High King climbed the tall castle walls in search of his friend. Caspian was watching the sun set, leaning on his elbows, his face lost in thought. He didn't seem to notice Peter approach, but Peter knew better. Anyone who had slept on the battlefield or on the ground of a enemy filled forest, ready to face death at any moment, could never be truly caught unaware.

"I had hoped you would join us for supper," Peter said lightly, stopping a couple feet away, his own eyes on the scenery. The smell of smoke was fainter here, although he knew it would be days before it was gone completely.

"I wasn't hungry," Caspian replied quietly, his voice a far cry from the thundering monarch he had been today. Instead of strong and forceful, he now seemed introspective and withdrawn.

"Lucy was worried." Again, it was light, but it made Caspian look over at him. Peter gave him a small grin. "Lu tends to get like that, when she's a bit scared."

"What does she fear?" Caspian wondered. "We're safe here. She's well protected."

"Perhaps the fears that make her worry overmuch are the same ones that kept Edmund in the practice court all afternoon. The ones that made me spend my day consulting with Glenstorm and Ironhoof, and that drove you to seek solitude." Caspian tilted his head, not quite understanding.

"You're not the only one who fears not doing right by his people, Caspian," Peter said frankly. "The only difference is that you're the only one who thinks he has to go it alone."

The Telmarine's eyes darkened as he bent his head.

"Aslan said I was ready, but deep down I know that I'm not. I should have refused the crown."

"You're never _ready_. But that's the whole point, isn't it?" Peter said, and he sounded much older than the young man he was. "You never know what life's going to throw at you, and so you can never be truly prepared. You just have to have faith in yourself, and your people will have the same in you."

"Queen Susan spoke to me of faith," Caspian murmured. "She told me I had to give that back to the people. But I still don't know how."

Peter was quiet for a while then he started to laugh. Caspian raised an eyebrow.

"You know, when it comes down to it, people are all a bit like little children," Peter chuckled. "We can be stubborn and crybabies, but what we really want is to let someone else do the thinking for us. We want all the answers provided easily, and we want to follow someone else's lead. That why it's so hard being in charge. You're fighting against human nature."

"Then why do it?" Caspian shook his head. "Why suffer through the doubt and the…fears?"

Peter turned bright blue eyes on his friend, gripping his arm and gesturing towards the surrounding land.

"So they don't have to," he said simply. Giving Caspian's arm a tighter grip before letting go, Peter turned to leave. Then he hesitated.

"Listen, Caspian, no matter what happens next…You were a King today."

Caspian said nothing and Peter nodded to himself. Caspian listened to his footsteps fade, and he continued to watch the sun slip away. Yes, he had been a King today. But in the end that might not be enough.

* * *

Per Peter's request, Lucy moved into Susan's rooms. At any other time Su would have made quite a stink of it, angry at the insinuation that she needed another female present to keep her honor intact. But Lucy seemed almost relieved for the company; she still didn't feel at home in the large and sometimes foreboding castle. And if there ever was a time for Susan to keep her mouth shut for the sake of everyone's peace of mind, now was it. They had enough to handle as it was. The people were in need, and what was worse, the rain had started to fall.

* * *

The great council was in session, but Susan ignored it as she walked right in. She had every right to be there, even if all those stuffy Telmarine nobles stared at her so strangely when she was.

"Caspian, I must speak with you."

At the sound of her voice, the king paused midsentence. Then he stood and bowed deeply.

"Your Majesty," he said quietly. Susan just shook her head, still not understanding his insistence on such formality.

"I need something from you."

Caspian seemed surprised, then he nodded.

"What is it?"

"I need you to open up the castle to the townsfolk. Your people are living homeless while we sit debating what to do," she said flatly. Lord Donnon laughed scornfully at her words.

"Her majesty has a bleeding heart. We cannot fill our castle with strays."

Susan shot him a glare, but turned back to Caspian, who looked vaguely uncomfortable. "Your _people_, Caspian, have nowhere to go. They are living three and four families to a home, and that's not good enough. Some of them are just living on the street. It's been raining for three days now, and the Eagles say a worse storm is coming and that it's going to get colder. We can't let them stay outside any longer, they'll get sick."

"My lady," Lord Baerd smirked indolently, his focus more on the plate of fruit he was eating than on her. "It's near midsummer. The temperatures will stay warm enough."

"I've never known the Eagles to be wrong when it came to such things," Susan said flatly.

"Eagles? Hmph! Perhaps your Narnians are used to comfortable settings, but us Telmarines are bred of a more sturdy stock. A little rain never hurt us."

"No? How about plague? Because that's what happens when you stuff sick people in tight confines together. Losing half your population to disease is a great way to see how _sturdy_ your _stock_ is, Lord Baerd."

His head snapped up, first in anger, then in growing alarm.

"If the people are growing ill, then bringing them in the castle is an even worse idea, your Majesty!" Baerd declared. "We'll all get sick for sure."

"That's not including the added risk factors of having so many new castle inhabitants. Why, the guards can barely keep up with security as it is…" Donnon was muttering.

Absolutely disgusted, Susan turned pleading eyes on Caspian. This was another one of those things that was complicated. If it had been Cair Paravel, the only one that could have told her no would have been Peter. But here, Caspian had say. Peter could technically overturn Caspian's decision, but the way things had been going, she didn't think that he would. Peter had been working too hard to help Caspian maintain his power, and overruling him would only be counterproductive. So it was Caspian who she must convince, and the way the weather was going, she was going to have to convince him _now_.

Caspian had sat back down, and she could see him debating in his head. Surely he wasn't afraid of growing sick! As if reading her mind, the darkly tanned king looked directly at her.

"It is not current illness I fear, but the conditions are right if we do not do something. However I agree with Lord Donnon. The security risks are great, already. I fear another repeat of the other day--"

"Oh bloody hell, Caspian!" Susan finally lost her temper and threw up her hands, interrupting him. "I'm fine! See?" She turned a circle, gesturing at her torso. "Absolutely fine. But if I have to take another crossbow bolt in the gut to get them out of the rain, then it's worth it! Those people are going to get sick and _fast_. You have to do something."

"My King, you can't possibly think that she is correct, can you?" Scythley asked scornfully. "Females with their delicate sensibilities cannot govern, that's a proven fact."

Susan went red in the face and opened her mouth to retort, but didn't have a chance.

"I would recommend watching your tongue around her Majesty, if I were you, Lord Scythley," Caspian said in a low and dangerous tone. "It would not due to have to remind a Telmarine lord of his manners."

At that Scythley shut up, but he glowered angrily in his seat. Head held high, Susan focused her attention on Caspian. As if the weather itself was making her point more clear, a heavy boom of thunder rattled the windows behind them. Still Caspian hesitated.

"Caspian, please," Susan asked a final time. He seemed like he was going to say no, and if he did, her respect for him was going to drop tremendously.

"Lord Tenneth, how many additional people can the castle accommodate?" Caspian asked his general.

"About two hundred my lord, maybe more. But the security-" Caspian held up his hand, cutting Tenneth off.

"I will agree upon one condition, your Majesty," he said softly, as if knowing she would not like it.

"And that is?"

"You allow the guard to be doubled on both yourself and Queen Lucy without delay." Susan cringed. She hated how many guards she had already and Caspian knew it. _Doubled_? He wasn't done. "And you both remain apart from the people until we have determined that there is no risk of an outbreak of plague. Those are my conditions."

"That is unkind of you Caspian," Susan said quietly, her words almost lost beneath the sheeting of the rain on stained glass. "You know I will agree to whatever you say for them."

"And you know I will agree to any request you make, my queen," Caspian said just as softly, as if forgetting the council was still there. "But not at the cost of your personal safety. I will not let you get hurt again."

"But we have Lucy's cordial…"

"Which is best saved for when we need it most. These are the terms, my lady."

There was nothing she could do, so finally Susan nodded tightly and swung around on her heel, swishing out of the council room angrily. Caspian didn't see her tears of frustration, and Susan didn't see Caspian cringe as she left. Neither of them saw the speculative looks on the Telmarine lords' faces as they watched.

* * *

"You there! Boy! Come over here and help load this cart. Boy!"

King Edmund the Just shot a smirking glance Trumpkin at the command, and the Red Dwarf snorted derisively. The Telmarine soldier was stamping through puddles towards them, and one should mention that it wasn't technically his fault that he didn't immediately recognize the king. Of course there wasn't a Telmarine that wouldn't immediately know King Caspian if they saw him…the former prince had been an often enough sight through the years. But the four Narnian monarchs were strange and new to the commoners, and as of yet very few had seen them enough to recognize them unless they were wearing finery and accompanied by guards.

Edmund wasn't quite looking kingly at this moment. He had stripped down to his loose white shirt and leather trousers, and was very dirty. The only thing worse than trying to work through layers of thick black ash is if that ash has been rained on for the better part of a week. There was no escaping it, and the young king looked like he had been down in a mining tunnel for awhile. So the Telmarine soldier stomped up to him, reaching out even as Edmund turned around. Instead of grabbing a hold of the boy's shirt, as he had intended, the Telmarine found a piece of charred wood smacked diagonally across his chest.

"Hands off the King," Trumpkin growled, giving the man a deliberate poke. Edmund gave the surprised soldier a cheeky grin. Realizing his mistake, the soldier immediately fell to his knees, fearfully. To do the same to King Miraz would have meant instant death.

"I know, I know. I don't look much the part," Edmund chuckled. "Oh stand up, I'm not going to bite." Shakily the soldier stood, head still bent.

"I apologize, your Majesty…," the soldier started but Edmund cut him off by giving his shoulder a clap.

"No need, good chap. Now where's this cart that is in desperate need of loading?"

"I…I…your majesty doesn't need to do that…" the man looked mortified.

"Do you need help or not?" Edmund asked, to which the soldier finally nodded. "Then let's have at it. I'm not growing any younger. Well, at least not today. I grew younger a year ago, and then grew older right after. Life's a bit complex, isn't it?"

"I think his majesty enjoys hearing his own voice too much," Trumpkin snorted, following Edmund and the soldier back to the cart. At this point everything salvageable had been taken from the wreckage, and now the rest was being hauled off out of the city.

"Better than yours, Trumpkin. For I," Edmund paused as he and the dwarf lifted the remaining half of a dresser and set it on the cart. "I try to look on the bright side of things."

"I'll look on the bright side when all this sludge dries out," Trumpkin muttered, lifting a boot and glaring at the black mud that clung to it. "Seems like there should be more Telmarine help than this. It _is_ their city, you know."

Edmund laughed, startling the soldier, who was desperately trying to load as much as he could alone to show the king that he was not sloughing his workload.

"Su's invited the whole city up to the castle to stay, where there's free food and nice roofs over their heads. Why risk stepping out and not being let back in?"

"Made a whole lot of problems, that has," Trumpkin grouched. "I haven't gotten to see my DLF in a week now." Really, the dwarf had no problem with the people in need living in the castle. He also didn't have a problem with the safety precautions Caspian had imposed on the queens. He _didn't_ appreciate the fact that as one of the ones regularly in the city, he was kept from his beloved Queen Lucy until the risk of illness was over. Edmund knew better than to tease Trumpkin on his love for his Queen. The dwarf was testy at best.

"I'll be glad to see them too," Edmund agreed. "Oh here, let me help. Don't kill yourself man, you've nothing to prove." Edmund helped the soldier pile on a heavy beam, then leaned back against the cart, wiping the sweat from his brow. The rain had started to drizzle once more, making streaks of pale skin show through the dirt on his face.

"Bloody weather," Trumpkin echoed Edmund's thoughts. "Can't blame folks for wanting to be out of it. Don't know why Caspian needed to take that many of them in though, most of 'em could've toughed it out."

"Cause Su asked him, that's why," the King snorted. "She batted her eyelids and pouted her lips and Caspian folded like a deck of cards. Sad thing, being that susceptible to womanly wiles. Thought Caspian might've had more gumption."

"Brave talk, your majesty," Trumpkin smirked. "I'll be sure to remind you of that a few years from now."

"Once a bachelor, always as bachelor," King Edmund declared proudly, bowing with a flourish. "Thirteen hundred years later I am still as impervious as ever."

"As impertinent as ever," the dwarf snickered, then ducked a good natured punch as the two went back to work. The Telmarine soldier remained silent but drank in every word, having never seen a king and a commoner side by side, toiling and laughing like friends. It gave him something to think about.

* * *

There was a polite knock on Susan's door and she seriously considered not answering it. However the second time the person knocked, Susan rolled herself off her divan and padded barefoot across the room. She greeted the visitor with less than warmth.

"Caspian," she said coldly, turning her back and heading back towards the couch. She flopped down gracelessly. He did not enter; instead he simply stood in the doorway. Unfortunately he made quite a beautiful sight, with one arm up on the doorframe and his legs braced, as if expecting battle. If he had been wearing a sword, Susan would have bet his hand would have been resting on it.

"Oh, come in," she said shortly. "I don't bite, although I can't promise anything about Lu. She's even more peeved at you than I am." It wasn't necessarily true, but it sounded good to Susan. Caspian managed to look contrite, which was what she had been going for. He took a single step inside, hand still on the doorframe.

"I just came to tell you that the healers have given everyone a clean bill of health," Caspian said quietly, seeming very shy and a bit unhappy. "Your Majesties may leave your rooms as you wish."

"Oh gee, thanks," she retorted sarcastically.

Caspian started to open his mouth to say something, then seemed to think better. Bowing silently, he backed out and softly shut the door.

"Who was that?" Lucy asked, coming out from the bedroom they now shared.

"Who do you think?"

"Oh. Is that why you were so rude?"

"I wasn't rude, Lucy. And even if I was, he deserved it."

At that Lucy got a look on her face, the same look that nearly always preceded a lecture in which she was almost always right.

"He did what you asked of him, didn't he? Do you have any clue what kind of nightmare this has been on the rest of the castle?" Lucy demanded, her fists on her hips. "You wanted all those people out of the rain and now they are. And now they're eating up the food so fast that the cooks can't keep up, and the pantries can't stay filled. They had to hire more of everyone to just keep up with the cleaning and the meals and the food gathering, and all of that is coming directly out of Caspian's pocketbook. And he hasn't said a word about it, because you asked it of him, Susan! The least you could do is stop being such a prat."

"Lucy!"

"Well it's true. You're not very nice to him. And here I thought you fancied him, Su."

"Why would you think that?"

"Gee, maybe because you kissed him." Lucy looked smug, as if she knew something no one else did. "And because you let him kiss you again."

"Lucy!"

The youngest monarch laughed at how red Susan blushed. "See? I knew you fancied him. So why don't you try being nicer?"

"Why don't you try minding your own business!" Susan swatted at her sister, who ducked out of the way.

"Because if you married him, I could have a nice brother for a change. Peter and Edmund are not nearly as sweet as Caspian."

"Then why don't _you_ grow up and marry him!"

"I can't."

"Why?"

"Because my sister fancies him." Lucy shrieked as Susan chased her round the room, laughing hysterically as she was pinned down and tickled mercilessly. The guards knew better than to dash in and see what all the fuss was. This kind of thing happened all the time with the youngest monarch. They did share glances though.

Sometimes it was odd having a child as Queen.

* * *

The Trees had awakened. But like anything that has slept for a very long time, they were sluggish and quiet. Therefore it has to be forgiven that they didn't pay attention to what slipped beneath their branches, skittering towards the castle in the dead of night.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N Hmmm…this needed to be read in one sitting, which is why the chapter is so long. The last scene probably should be rated M because of creepiness. I might lose some of you here. If I do, thanks for all the wonderful feedback so far. I've loved it. :) _

**The Lost Chronicles of Narnia: The Beast of Witherby**

Chapter Five

Even if Lucy had been paying better attention, she still never would've seen it coming.

Despite the rise in the number of guards on her at all times, Lucy had able to find herself some privacy. One of these was riding in the great gardens behind the castle. She loved it there, and the high wall on all sides assured even Caspian that she would be safe there. So they let the Queen ride by herself, as long as she remained in the garden and did not disappear from view for long within the thicker trees. Her mind would wander, and she would enjoy the peace of being alone. Therefore no one was watching when her horse perked its ears up and made a sudden stop unbidden, startling Lucy from her daydreams. It snorted as she tried to sooth it and guide it forward.

"Queen Lucy."

The voice that growled out of the darker bushes made her shiver, and she instinctively backed her horse up. It shifted nervously beneath her.

"Who are you?" she called out. "Friends don't hide in the shadows," she added.

"Your Majesty might not wish to be considered _my_ friend," the voice seemed amused.

"I think I'll decide that for myself," Lucy declared bravely. "However I won't continue talking to you if you keep hiding. It's rude."

A deep rumbling growl issued from behind the bushes, and for a moment Lucy considered calling out for Edmund. The leaves rustled and a dark grey snout emerged, followed by a heavy fur covered body. Despite herself, Lucy's breath caught in her throat. It was the largest Wolf she had ever seen, and in the old days they had been big indeed!

"See, sir?" the Queen managed to be polite. "There was no need to hide."

"They used to call your brother Peter Wolfsbane." Great golden eyes blinked at her as the Wolf slunk around her horse, circling her like one would prey.

"Well, that was a long time ago," Lucy said. "A lot has happened since then. Peter hasn't banished a Wolf in years."

"Not in thirteen hundred years, your Majesty?" The Wolf seemed almost amused, and his jaw opened in a wolfish grin. Unfortunately that only showed the many sharp teeth in his mouth, and Lucy found that she was having an increasingly hard time controlling her mount. "The Wolves still tell of him." That probably _wasn't_ a good thing.

"Please, sir," she scolded. "You're scaring my horse." And her as well, although she'd never admit it. The Wolf seemed to smirk, but it did slip back a few feet. Neither one spoke for a long moment.

"What do you need, good Wolf?" Lucy finally asked. "My brothers are expecting me and I must hurry."

"There has never been, in Narnia's long history, a Good Wolf," he stated, but he lay down on the grass peacefully.

"I'm growing tired of the word games."

"Which is why her Majesty would not make a good Wolf."

"The thought has never occurred to me," Lucy replied truthfully. The Wolf watched her with his golden eyes, blinking every so often. Lucy watched back, remembering why she had never been comfortable around this particular Narnian creature. They had never pledged themselves to the Pevensies, and in the first few years of his rule, Peter had put down trouble caused by several large Packs.

"As all Wolves, I hold hate in my heart for the Wolfsbane, and nothing would please me more than to pull you from your horse, your Majesty." He was grinning again. "However I enjoy the freedom of the expansive lands we Wolves can run, which are much greater than in the Old times. So from my people, I bring an offer of Peace for the High King."

"And that is?"

"We will not cease our feeding off of the animals and Animals of Narnia, but we will try to contain the hunt to animals primarily." His teeth gleamed as he thought about it. "In exchange we will not be driven into the outskirts of Narnia, as our ancestors were."

"No Animals at all," Lucy countered, and the Wolf growled.

"Sometimes it is impossible to tell," he smirked, tongue lolling out.

"If it screams for mercy, it is an Animal," Lucy shot back. Yes, she definitely did not like these Wolves.

"We will _try_."

"I'll tell Peter," Lucy told him seriously. "And I'll _try_ my best to convince him, but you best keep your word. He'll be vexed if he agrees and you lot turn on us."

The great Wolf snarled, making her horse spook.

"A Wolf never goes back on his word."

"Is that why you never pledged to us?" The Packs of Old had pledged to the White Witch. Realizing that she might have just put herself in real danger with her quick tongue, Lucy held her breath. But suddenly the Wolf laughed, an odd barking noise.

"Her Majesty is as Valiant as they say." He rose and padded silently back towards the bushes. "As good faith, I would bid you tell the High King this: it is not the Wolves that he should fear right now, nor is it the squabbling of the Narnians. There is something that circles the castle, searching for a way in."

"What is it?"

"Something…Bad."

And with that the Wolf slipped back amongst the shadows of the bushes, leaving Lucy feeling cold and wishing she had not been so eager to get away from the guards Caspian had insisted so strongly upon.

Perhaps the overcautious King was not so overcautious after all.

* * *

"Edmund."

"Hmmm?" The king was preoccupied as he watched a squadron of men and Beasts push heavy stones into place. The reconstruction of Aslan's How had been put on a momentary hold. It seemed more important that the main effort go into rebuilding those homes lost in the fires. It had been good for both Telmarine and Narnian. Having to work side by side was the best way for the ancient enemies to start overcoming their differences. Not that fights didn't break out constantly, but at least they were…containable.

"Edmund. I must speak with you." Lucy sounded too serious for her normal self, and so he turned around.

"What is it, Lu?" Her face was a bit drawn, and she looked worried.

"I need to talk to Peter and Caspian, but I need someone there who won't overreact." That was unexpected. Edmund raised an eyebrow.

"Lu…what happened?"

So she told him. After a momentary fit of anger that something as dangerous as a Wolf had gotten so close to his sister, Edmund saw her point. He might be angry about it, but Caspian and Peter were liable to take it too far. Edmund felt it might have gone over better if he spoke to them himself, but Lucy insisted that she had to tell Peter personally. She had promised the Wolf.

Peter and Caspian reacted about as well as Edmund had expected.

"There was a WHAT?!" The High King was so incensed that he leapt to his feet. Caspian knew little about Wolves, but he knew that it shouldn't have been able to get into the gardens unnoticed.

"Pete, calm down. Lu's fine," Edmund reminded him. "Really, it was good that the Wolf approached her. The rest of us would have probably tried to kill it before thinking to listen to it."

"I must have a talk with Lord Tenneth," Caspian glowered. Lucy turned on him imploringly.

"Oh please don't, Caspian. He's trying the best he can!"

"Then perhaps his best isn't sufficient," the tanned king said shortly. At which point Lucy put her fists on her hips. Inwardly Edmund snickered, glad it was Caspian on the receiving end this time.

"Or maybe you're just expecting too much of him!" Lucy cried. "You can't expect him to be able to prepare for everything that could possibly happen. How's he to know the way Narnians act? Lord Tenneth is used to dealing with _humans_, Caspian. It's going to take time for him to get used to Creatures as well."

"Lucy," Caspian said patiently. "I only seek to do everything I can to keep you and your sister, and the rest of your family safe. If that is too much for the general to handle, then I will find someone else."

Lucy threw her hands up in the air exasperatedly, looking momentarily like a miniature of their mother. "We ruled a long time without having you around to babysit us, Caspian. Believe it or not, we would ride into battles and keep _others_ safe. I haven't complained so far because I know you only mean to help, but Aslan wouldn't have chosen us to be kings and queens if we were as helpless as you treat us!"

"I don't believe your Majesties helpless…" Caspian stated, floundering a bit. Edmund was starting to grin.

"No? Just Susan, then? Or are you using this as an excuse to show her how much you care? Because suffocation by guards is not exactly romantic, and why have you stopped coming to meals with us?"

"…Huh?" The change in topic took Caspian completely off guard, and he struggled to keep up. This was the first time he had seen the little girl peeved, and it was…more _intimidating_ than it should have been!

"Meals. You've stopped eating with us, and that's just not right," Lucy declared, stamping her small foot. "We're family, all of us, and you can't just stop coming to meals because you and Su have a tiff because you're being a big bully."

"Bully?" Caspian looked to Peter for help, but the High King was grinning now too, and offered no aid.

"Yes. You're being a big bully, and it's time you stopped. I outrank you, you Majesty," Lucy added. "So…there."

There was silence in the room.

"Well, there you have it," Edmund said solemnly. "Her Royal Majesty Queen Lucy the Valiant has commanded that his Majesty King Caspian the Tenth stop being a bully. Shall I have it put in writing?"

"I think that could be arranged," Peter nodded sagely. "Reepicheep."

"Yes, sire?" The Mouse appeared instantly.

"Have the Royal Scribes alerted that there is new legislation in the kingdom. King Caspian is not allowed to be a bully, and must attend supper without delay." Peter was having too much fun with this, especially considering that the Mouse immediately scampered off to do as he bid. Caspian was bright red at this point.

"Is this really necessary, your Majesties?" Caspian asked, a bit plaintively and well aware he was being made fun of.

"I think it really is," Edmund snickered.

"Now, someone needs to go see what the Wolf was talking about, and I want to play with my kitten." Suddenly the tiny face perked up, happy again. "No one can tell if she is a Kitten or not, so I've been trying to get her to talk with me. Peter, would you like to come too? You haven't played with her much."

Peter coughed then grinned at his sister. "Perhaps later, Lu. I think Caspian's had a bit of a shock, and I ought to keep him company."

Lucy gave the Telmarine another pointed look, and shook her finger at him. Caspian had the grace to bow his head respectfully until the little queen left the room. Then he groaned and slid down in his chair while the other two howled.

"How's it feel, my king, to be put in your place the way the rest of us are?" Edmund asked, wiping tears from his eyes.

"And _she's_ the easy going one," Peter added. "Thank goodness that I at least outrank them both. Of course, the rest of you are buggered."

"Thanks, Peter. Really."

"No problem, Caspian."

* * *

If there was something outside the castle wall, then the Telmarines and Narnian Creatures sent out to search could not find it. Then again, they could not find how the Wolf got inside the gardens either.

* * *

Caspian slipped into the semi-dark kitchens, yawning as he nodded to the couple servants that hadn't left yet. They were preparing loaves for the following morning's bread, and the smell of rising dough was comforting to him. Heading to the pantries in the next room over, Caspian hadn't thought to expect anyone else to be there this late at night. However someone was already seated at the large butcher block table, resting on an elbow and idly playing with the apple pastry in front of her. He paused momentarily, wondering if his luck was good or bad, and in the hesitation she noticed that someone was watching her.

"Caspian? What are you still doing up?" Susan asked, pivoting around on her stool. She must have slipped down after getting ready for bed, because her hair was hanging loose around her shoulders and she wore a robe instead of her usual gowns. Caspian focused on keeping his eyes higher than the slightly drooping neckline.

"Most likely the same thing you are," he replied, as he headed towards the pantries. After a bit of poking around, he found a half finished berry tart and a spoon.

"May I join you?" Caspian asked quietly when he returned, and Susan nodded. He glanced around curiously.

"You're alone?"

"Hardly. There are Mice all around us, but they know I wanted to be left to my thoughts. They were kind enough to remain hidden for awhile." As she was saying this, a whiskered nose poked out of the shadows of the counter behind her. Peepicheek bowed solemnly to Caspian and then, with his nose twitching, silently slipped back into darkness.

"Should I leave?" he asked, a touch uncomfortable. He hadn't intended in intruding, and he knew she was still less than pleased at the number of guards always around her. But Susan merely shook her head.

"No, you're fine. What's that?" She leaned over the table, peering at his dessert. He was eating straight out of the pan, something he had never been allowed when he was younger. But there had to be some small perks being king, right?

"Blueberry," he said between bites. She looked a bit disappointed.

"Oh. I didn't know there were any of those left."

Caspian couldn't help his tiny smile at the way her lips pouted just slightly. Attempting and failing horribly at being casual, the young monarch pushed the tart into the middle of the table so that she could share it with him if she wanted to. It didn't help his confidence any that he pushed it a bit too hard, and now he had to lean far over the table to reach himself. Luckily, Susan seemed so pleased that she didn't notice. Instead she leaned forward and dug out a huge spoonful happily.

"You know, back home Mum would have skinned me for eating out of the dish like this," she commented, sighing with pleasure as she immediately took another bigger spoonful. "But it's so much better like this. What?"

He had been looking at her with a strange expression, but Caspian just shook his head and smiled a bit bigger. He wasn't going to say that he found it oddly cute that the normally polite eater was attacking his dessert the way she was.

"I've never heard you mention your world," he remarked between bites. "None of you, actually, except for Peter once."

Susan shrugged, but a small frown crossed her face.

"It's…sort of complicated."

He didn't say anything but in the silence she could tell that he wanted her to continue.

"We just never know when we might have to go back, you know? The first time around we never thought we would be going back, and there were times I missed my parents horribly. But the longer we were in Narnia, that harder it was to remember England. I doubt we would have ever returned if we had realized we were walking back through the wardrobe."

"And now?" he gently pressed.

"And now? Well, you saw how it was. Aslan wanted us to go back, but everyone threw such a fit and convinced him we should stay. We weren't meant to remain longer, and sometimes I wonder just how long it will last this time. Like we're living on borrowed time." Susan sighed at the thought and leaned forward even more to reach the tart. It was a bit uncomfortable, but neither one seemed to care.

"Is that why you seem so sad sometimes?"

The comment was disturbingly candid, and caught Susan by surprise. But she mustered a brave smile and shrugged.

"You won't need us forever, Caspian," Susan said simply. "Eventually you will want to stand alone. Every man does."

Caspian didn't reply right away, and she could tell he was thinking very deeply about something. Finally when he spoke, it seemed as if he was changing the subject.

"Lucy was angry with me for not coming to meals with the rest of you," Caspian mentioned. "I received quite the lecture."

"Hmph!" Susan snorted. "Just wait until she gets older."

"After last week, it had never occurred to me that you would still want me there," Caspian said softly, a touch of vulnerability in his words. Susan tilted her head curiously. "Queen Lucy informed me that no matter what strife there is between us all, we were still family and therefore needed to eat together."

"Everyone fights, Caspian," Susan told him, sounding just a bit apologetic. She knew she hadn't been as kind to him lately as she should have, and that her words applied to both of them. "But that doesn't give us the right to walk away from each other."

"My entire life, I never had anyone to walk away _from_, my queen." Caspian admitted simply, without remorse. "And until fleeing the castle, _all_ my meals were taken alone." Susan instinctively reached out to take his hand. She had always been surrounded by siblings and family, and the thought was foreign and very sad to her.

"My whole life, I have stood alone. And while I may not always need the political support, it would pain me to lose…you."

Susan fell silent, but still kept hold of his hand. She wasn't sure if his "you" meant all of them, or her more specifically. After a moment, his fingers curled tentatively around her own, but his eyes were on his tart as he ate.

"Lucy told me I was being a prat to you," Susan said softly. "I think maybe she was right."

Caspian chuckled. "She told me I was being a bully."

"Did she now?" Susan laughed. "See, someone agrees with me!"

"What was that about being a prat?" Caspian teased, and Susan swatted at him playfully with her free hand, the one holding the spoon. Droplets of fruit splattered a bit, but Caspian didn't seem to care in the least. His face did become serious, though.

"Are we alright now, my queen?" Caspian needed to know. "You're not still angry with me?"

"Yes, Caspian, we're fine. But only on one condition," Susan added archly.

"And that is?" He braced himself.

"That I get the rest of this!" Susan declared with a smirk and made a grab for the dessert, jumping up to flee from a very surprised Caspian with the tart clutched to her front. Unfortunately the escape plan had a single flaw. The seated Caspian still had her hand. Laughing, Susan made it around the table, but found herself being pulled sideways. She squealed when she tripped over his long legs and found herself draped across Caspian's chest, nose to nose with the handsome king. She almost said something smart, then got distracted looking into his dark eyes. Susan remembered what it had been like to kiss him in the hall, and her heart started beating faster. His free arm was around her waist, holding her securely, and his strength made her breath catch. Caspian tilted his head sideways as if he was going to kiss her again, but he held back. Waiting. Waiting for her to decide. Susan closed her eyes and leaned in…

_**Splat.**_

Centimeters away from his lips, Susan froze. Something had squished impressively between her chest and his, and now it covered them both with dark blue fruit and juice.

"Oh. Oh!" Susan gasped in dismay. She had forgotten that the stolen tart was against her chest, and she had just upturned the rest of it on Caspian's clothing and her own. "Caspian, I'm so sorry!" Susan jumped up to try and do something, but Caspian was laughing, the first full real laugh she had ever heard from him. And instead of letting her up, he only pulled her in closer, grinning as he kissed her. Susan struggled for a second, still thinking that she needed to clean up the mess, but then she realized what was happening. Relaxing, she wrapped her arm around his neck, kissing him back. Fingers still entwined , he lifted her up so that her hair fell around his face, pulling away momentarily and smiling up at her. Susan grinned back. The pan fell to the floor as she leaned back down to kiss him again…

"Su?" Edmund's shocked voice made both monarchs freeze. Caspian's smile fell, as he realized just how badly this looked. The queen across his lap in a compromising position, and him with his hands all over her! Instinctively he let go of her, forgetting that he was holding her up. Susan lost her balance and with a startled yelp, she slipped sideways off his lap. Caspian made a grab for her, but a bit too late, and she ended up on her rear with the king's arm beneath her back to cushion her fall. At this point Caspian had completely lost his own balance, bent over the way he was, and only his hand's grip on the table kept him from falling right on top of Susan. Incredibly proud of averting _that_ disaster at least, Caspian looked over at Edmund, then down at Susan, then down at his blueberry covered self. Expecting her to be appalled, instead the queen was laughing so hard that she was crying.

Caspian grinned foolishly as he helped her back up to her feet. It wasn't easy considering how off balance she was at the moment, and he was just waiting to hear what the lady's brother was going to say about the matter. Caspian wouldn't be surprised if he ended up in a duel because if this, which he regretted because Edmund was quite good, and he would look a fool sword fighting while covered in dessert. But standing up like a man, Caspian waited for his lecture, trying to stifle his chuckles. Edmund continued to stare for a moment, then he looked really angry.

"That wasn't the last berry tart, was it? Oh bloody hell, you two!" Edmund snapped, before turning and stomping out of the kitchen, leaving the pair behind him. But as soon as he was out of sight Edmund smiled.

* * *

Haana had wandered quite a bit away from the rest of the Herd, as was her style. She had simply lived alone too long, and the ingrained need for other Horses to be around had somehow diminished in her. She knew it confused the others, making them shy away from her, but the young Mare couldn't help it. It was just who she was, and there was no changing it now. This late at night the grass was covered in dew, and each bite was sweet. Haana was glad that they had come here, the grazing was the best she'd known. She snorted softly as she ate; content and relaxed. Then, as she reached for a patch of new sprouts to her left, she smelled something different. Something….Bad.

Haana snorted and lifted her head quickly. Her ears pivoted left and right, straining to hear anything that might betray the Bad smell's location. Her eyes rolled as the scent grew stronger and she stamped her foot, pawing at the ground nervously. She was a brave Mare, and up until now she had never known fear. But the rest of the night had gone quiet, as if even the insects themselves had stilled. That was never good. The Mare quivered as the Bad smell burned her sensitive nostrils. With a trumpeting whinny, she spun around and exploded into a dead run back towards the Herd. Neeha, the Stallion, had been dozing, but came alive instantly at the warning noise. He met the Mare at the edge of the Herd, watching how her flanks heaved as she gasped for breath, trying to explain. But by the time she had recovered and could lead him back to the spot, the Bad smell was already gone.

Haana slept that night in the center of the Herd.

* * *

Susan's bow was drawn tightly against her cheek as she stared down at her target. It was a difficult shot, even for her, but that was why she liked these kinds of tests. They only made her better. Trumpkin had once grumbled during an archery competition with her that the apples they shot looked more like cherries. Well right now, with the dwarf in attendance, Susan _was_ shooting cherries. At least she was trying! The slight breeze was enough to make this really difficult…

A white lily brushed her other cheek, making Susan start in surprise, swinging her bow around instinctively. A tall man sidestepped and smiled down at her, making the queen lower her bow and sigh in exasperation.

"Don't _do_ that, Caspian!" she admonished. "I could've put an arrow in you."

The king seemed unconcerned with his brush with arrow. In fact, by his relaxed stance and easy grin, he was obviously in quite a good mood this afternoon.

"Then at your feet I would have fallen, my queen," he said with a flirtatious bow, tilting the long stemmed lily towards her. His dark eyes twinkled. "According to the history books, I wouldn't have been the first."

Susan couldn't help smiling back at him, his happiness infectious, and she set aside her bow. With a tiny curtsey of thanks, she took the flower, sniffing it delicately.

"His majesty should know by now that speaking of a woman's age is not considered polite," she teased, stepping back as he stepped closer. "Especially when the woman is 1300 years older. But since he is so young, I'll have to forgive it."

"Her majesty is even more gracious than they say," Caspian replied with a grin. "And they say good things indeed."

"And I say this is a bit cloying for my taste," Trumpkin muttered from behind. "I think I'll be going anywhere else now." The dwarf shot them both a disgusted look, and he stomped away, past the ever present and ever wary Mice. Caspian had the grace to look a bit embarrassed, but it didn't keep him from still looking happy.

"Thank you for the flower. But why are you in such a good mood?" Susan asked curiously. She snapped the stem off the lily and tucked it up into her braided hair. Caspian lay down in the grass, watching as the queen retrieved her bow and took aim once more. He stretched out, looking extremely relaxed. Susan liked seeing him like this, because it certainly was rare.

"I'm celebrating."

"Celebrating what?"

"I'm celebrating my first whole week as King where there has been no major disaster, no impending crisis, and no looming threat of everything falling apart."

"You know that by saying that you've set yourself up for trouble," Susan warned him, only partially joking. Her eyes narrowed as she drew back the string. Leaning back his elbows, Caspian watched her easily, as if not at all shy about the fact he was looking. She tried to keep herself from being unsettled under his gaze.

"Trouble always comes, my dearest queen," Caspian said with a shrug, turning his head to try and see what she was aiming at. "But not for the last sevenday, so I will rejoice while I can. Would you like to go riding with me?"

"Hmmmm?" For a moment she seemed to not have heard him. Then Susan let fly her arrow with a sharp twang, and she watched intently for a moment. Then she smiled and strapped her bow behind her back. "It's early enough we won't be accused of scandal. I think a ride would be nice."

Caspian's eyes were huge. "Did you just shoot a _cherry_?"

Susan arched an eyebrow.

"Intimidated, your Majesty?" she asked with a little smirk as she started walking away to retrieve her arrow. A pleased grin spread across Caspian's face as he jumped up and followed.

* * *

_"Cheers."_

_"To what?"_

_"To a job well done."_

_"It's not done yet."_

_"Then cheers to a job being well done as we speak."_

_"Cheers indeed."_

* * *

The morning came way too soon.

"Queens Lucy and Susan. Your majesties, the Kings are awaiting you. Your majesties, should I tell them to break fast without you?" A worried lady-in-waiting's voice cut through Lucy's slumber.

"Hmmph?" was the best reply Lucy could think of at the moment, as she struggled to pull herself from sleep. She blinked at the bright light streaming through the window, and she looked around with bleary eyes.

"Whattime is it?" Susan slurred, sounding as tired as Lucy felt. Her older sister sat up in bed and yawned. "Did we oversleep?"

"By over an hour, your Majesty," the servant replied. "The bells didn't seem to wake you as normal."

"Bloody bells," Susan mumbled. Lucy rather liked hearing the cheerful ringing each morning at daybreak and at nightfall, as was a Telmarine tradition. She thought it a fine way to wake, with music and the morning sun. None of her sibling seemed to agree, but they all liked to sleep in longer than her. This morning however, the smallest Queen wished she could just go back to bed.

"Can't they just eat without us?" Lucy asked, sounding a bit plaintive. Susan shot her a look, then yawned again. Wincing suddenly, she rubbed her chest as if it hurt.

"With all that ruckus you made about Caspian not eating with us? Hardly."

Both Queens grudgingly rolled out of bed, but for some reason neither one of them seemed to be able to wake up fully. Susan usually made sure her hair was brushed and braided and her clothes neat before stepping out, and unless Lucy could beat her out of the room, insisted that Lu do the same. It wouldn't do for a queen to look like a ragamuffin in the morning! But after a few tries, Susan gave up and left her hair down, and she didn't say anything about Lucy wearing her sleeping robes to breakfast. Neither one remembered their shoes.

Peter and Caspian rose politely when Lucy and Susan finally made it to the dining area, with Peter dragging Edmund up to his feet by the arm. The second king had already been sneaking pastries for awhile now.

"About time you two showed up," Peter said with a good natured laugh. "Girls never can get ready fast enough."

"You look a fright, Su," Edmund declared, to which Susan glared at him. "Have you been staying up eating tarts again?"

Normally Susan would have had some sort of smart comment to reply, but this morning she seemed too tired to care. Caspian had already held out a chair for her and Lucy, and both Queens dropped into them like sacks of grain. Caspian said nothing but looked a bit concerned.

"Are you two feeling alright?" Peter asked. "Lu, you seem a bit pale in the face."

"I'm fine Peter, I'm just tired," Lucy replied, covering her mouth as she yawned. She reached for a roll, but only picked at it. Susan just stared at her plate, as if she had forgotten what it was for.

"Are you going to eat anything, Su?" Peter turned his attention on his other sister. To him, neither seemed quite right. Susan looked up, as if confused.

"Hmm? What? No, I'm not hungry this morning."

"Then why did we wait so bloody long--!" Edmund was cut off by a swift kick to his leg from his brother.

"Perhaps I should call the healers?" Caspian asked softly, but Edmund shook his head.

"Probably they just stayed up too late gossiping, right girls?"

Neither one answered immediately. Lucy was rubbing the back of her neck and looking around distractedly. Susan was lost in her own thoughts again, or she would have been if she had been thinking about anything. Really, she was just sitting, staring at her plate once more.

"Did you two stay up late last night? Su?" Peter repeated Edmund's question.

"Hmmm?" Susan seemed to focus a bit more, and she looked up at her brother. "I don't quite remember what I did last night, Pete."

At that, Caspian looked rather hurt. The evening before had been one of the most enjoyable ones he could recall.

"Her Majesty and I went riding out in the apple orchards," Caspian replied, watching Susan's face closely. "We returned right at sundown. Afterwards I escorted her to her and Queen Lucy's chambers. Do you not remember, your Majesty?" he added of Susan, looking crestfallen. She looked up at him, then she seemed confused.

"Yes, of course," Susan said. "I remember…but I can't recall much after you left, Caspian. Lu was already sleeping…I must have gone straight to bed. "

"I _must_ have been asleep before Su returned," Lucy piped up, trying to be more lively than she felt. "I don't remember her coming in. Although I should be more rested than this. Su should be, too. That's still early for us to go to sleep."

"I will call a healer," Caspian decided, speaking more forcefully. He didn't like the way that Susan kept rubbing at her chest like it pained her. He stood up.

"Oh please, Caspian, don't," Lucy begged. "I just think we need a bit more sleep, that's all. Please?"

Caspian hesitated, looking to Susan for her reaction. She was yawning behind her hand, blinking sleepily, and once more not even listening to the conversation.

"Alright. Would you like me to escort you back?" he offered. Lucy looked to Peter, who nodded in agreement. More sleep might do them good. Lucy stood up wearily and Caspian offered her his arm. Instead she lifted her hands up, much as a young child does when they want to be carried. Caspian seemed surprised, for usually the queen acted a bit older than this, then he leaned over and picked her up in one of his arms. Lucy seemed almost asleep with her head on his shoulder before they even exited the room.

"She hasn't done that since we left the professor's house," Edmund commented, sharing a worried glance with Peter. "Su, you want us to take you back as well?"

"Hmmm?"

"Come on." Peter put his arm around Susan's waist and helped her up. Like Lucy, she leaned her head against his shoulder and stumbling a bit. Halfway to her room Susan stumbled and not bothering to ask permission, Peter picked her up and carried her. With Su being much larger than Lucy, he grunted, but Susan was so out of it she didn't even know she was being carried and wasn't offended. Looking concerned, Edmund followed.

"I best call that healer after all," he told the High King, about to head away to get someone. "Something's wrong with both of them."

"Please do."

However, Lucy's cry of alarm froze Edmund in his tracks. Pushing past Peter and into her rooms, Edmund drew his sword. There was no one to fight. Instead Lucy sat on the edge of her bed, holding a little red bag with tears in her eyes. Beside her, Caspian's expression was going from one of shock to one of anger. Lucy showed Edmund the empty bag, tears rolling down her face.

"Oh, Ed! It's awful! Someone's taken my cordial!"

* * *

The healer was a middle aged woman with graying hair around her temples and creases at the corners of her eyes. She had once been a great beauty, but life had been hard for the Telmarines under Miraz's rule, and it showed on her face. She spent a while with both girls in their bedroom, and when she was done she reported to the kings what she had found.

"Their Majesties are both anemic," she said simply. "Queen Lucy is more than Queen Susan, although Queen Lucy seems to be recovering faster, probably because of her age. Both are equally healthy so they should be fine after some rest."

"Anemic?" Peter asked. "What do you mean?"

"Simply put? Their bodies are acting as if they both lost a great deal of blood."

"Blood? You mean like a cut?" Reepicheep questioned tersely. He was not the only one who had gathered outside the Queens' bedchamber in the sitting room. Ironhoof, Trumpkin, and Peepicheek were also in attendance. There had been more…rumor spread like wildfire in the castle, but Peter had made it clear that no one else was to be there. The rest of those close to the royal family, trusted friends, had been sent out into the castle and the city in an attempt to quietly find the thief who had stolen Lucy's cordial. Edmund had stepped out to direct those efforts but had slipped back in as the healer was speaking, Lord Tenneth in tow.

"I suppose," the healer said, packing up her supplies and eyeing the Mouse curiously.

"You said they are 'acting' like they lost blood?" Caspian had caught the emphasis on her words. The woman shook her head ruefully.

"Yes, Sire. You see, they have no wounds to speak of and neither remembers getting hurt yesterday. They show no other symptoms, no fevers or shakes or anything. But the paleness and listlessness, and especially the tiredness are what you would see in a soldier that had recently lost a lot of blood. I cannot explain it any better than that. Whatever the case, they are slowly reviving. They need to eat, hungry or not, and drink fruit juices. Anything but wine will help them greatly."

"Thank you," Peter said quietly, and taking it as dismissal, the healer curtseyed and left the room. "Okay, first off. Ed, have you found anything yet?"

"No, although it's starting to get round that something of great importance was stolen…if the thief is still here then they are sure to know we are looking for them. Something that small could be hidden anywhere."

"Great," Peter sighed. "Alright. If the secret's spilled, then I suppose you should get the word out to everyone. I wish we had some greater incentive to get them to find it. That cordial is a needle in a haystack."

"Let the people know that any man or beast who comes forward with the cordial will be made a knight of the Telmarines," Caspian spoke up instantly.

"And the women?" Edmund gave him a touch of a grin.

"A lady of the court."

"Thank you," Peter said to Caspian. "Although I doubt that it was just anyone. When do you suppose they took off with it? While we were at breakfast?"

"The lady in waiting was still here when I arrived with Lucy," Caspian said quietly. "She had been straightening the room. It was not on her person, and she claims she didn't leave and no one else came in."

"Do we believe her?" Trumpkin asked, looking quite serious. To him, neither of the morning's events were a laughing matter.

"The woman checks out, your Majesties," Tenneth spoke up. Once more the man looked grim, and he looked down every time Caspian's eyes turned his way. It was obvious the general felt he had failed his king once more.

"Sires," Reepicheep paced back and forth, his tiny hand on his sword. "Do we believe that the Queens' strange illnesses and the missing cordial are connected?"

"The queen was fine last night," Caspian said, looking unhappy and confused. "I swear to you of that. Our ride was leisurely and she was in fine spirits when I escorted her to her rooms. She checked on Lucy straightaway and then said her goodnights. There was nothing--"

The king trailed off his words, and a frown creased his mouth.

"What is it?" Peter pressed. Caspian shifted uncomfortably.

"There was nothing out of sorts."

"But?"

"But I had felt the strangest urge to check their bedroom myself," Caspian admitted, knowing that it was quite beyond the realm of propriety and flushing a bit. "Her majesty seemed amused at my insistence. But after I had checked, there seemed to be nothing out of sorts, and the feeling diminished. I would not have left if I had felt otherwise."

"I always check on their Majesties in the middle of the night," Trumpkin admitted gruffly. "I too saw nothing wrong. And I even did a thorough sweep of their room."

"Normally I would have something to say about that to both of you," Peter said pointedly. "But we have greater matters to consider. Lucy swears she had the cordial on her last night when she went to bed. It was gone this morning. So who or whatever took it had to have somehow gotten into their room last night. Or the lady in waiting is lying."

"Would you have me question her again?" Lord Tenneth asked at once. Caspian nodded.

"Yes, but gently. My instinct is that the woman is being truthful. She seemed nearly as upset as her Majesty was that it was gone." Tenneth bowed and vacated the room to do his king's bidding. Caspian watched him go with a strange expression. As if deciding something of his own, Ironhoof clomped out after him.

"My lord?" Reepicheep asked, noticing the king's look. Caspian just shook his head.

"Something…I can not quite put my finger on it. He is more uncomfortable than he should be."

"Fear perhaps, sire? Your predecessor was a tyrant by no small means."

"Maybe…"

"Unless you suspect the general of misdoing, we have more serious problems to discuss," Peter reminded them. A Faun entered with a tray of food for the queens, disappeared into their room, then came back out. Behind him a small head poked through the doorway.

"Lu?" Edmund stepped forward. The little girl gave him a smile, looking indeed as if she was starting to feel better. "Lu, you should be in bed."

"I think I've found a clue," she said proudly. "Hurry and come see."

'Hurry and come see' didn't exactly happen. For one, Caspian adamantly refused to walk into the girl's bedroom, especially with Susan still resting. Likewise he protested vehemently when Trumpkin headed towards Lucy. Trumpkin told him that it wasn't anything he hadn't seen before, and that he wasn't a shy boy king. Caspian bristled at that and Edmund had to step in between them. Peter groaned as Reepicheep and Peepicheek leapt to support Caspian. When Reepicheep declared the dwarf unfit company for the ailing queens, Trumpkin aimed a kick at both of them. Tiny blades flew out at about the same time Lucy reached Caspian, tugging at his sleeve and telling him not to be silly. Caspian was forced to sidestep to keep from tripping over the gallant Mice, and Trumpkin ended up sitting on Reepicheep, must to the shame of the Mouse and to the dismay of Peepicheek. Peepicheek asked High King Peter permission to slay the foul dwarf, and Lucy started to cry thinking that the upset Mouse just might try. Edmund got angry at them all for making Lu cry, and told Caspian to stop being such a prude. He had no problem mussing Su the other night, didn't he? Caspian drew himself up angrily right about at the time Peter stood up.

"Bloody hell, you lot! Enough," Peter gave them all his most commanding look, which was commanding indeed. "Caspian, get over it. Trumpkin, get off the Mouse, and Mice, contain yourselves! Edmund, _shut up_. Now, Lu, don't cry. What's this clue you have to share with us?"

As it turned out, Susan was so deeply asleep when the others entered that she never stirred. Lucy led them to the windows, which had been locked when she had gone to bed.

"Look at this. The inside latch is broken," she told them. "It's been pushed in until it broke."

"Someone tried to open the doors inwards before they realized they open outwards," Edmund mused. "If you had been here at the time, would you have heard that break, Lucy?"

"Of course, I would have to be deaf not too," Lucy said. "In the middle of the night everything's so quiet."

"What if it wasn't the _middle_ of the night?" Trumpkin asked, peering out the windows towards the bell tower. Caspian's eyes widened.

"But that's at nightfall!" he said. "We rode in at the bells, and were back here only shortly after. The window was closed."

"That's because I closed it," a feminine voice said. Susan had awoken and was sitting up in her bed, looking a bit better as well. "I put my bow next to the nightstand, where Lucy sets her cordial. I remember more now. I had thought she wanted more air, but I thought it was too cold…I set my bow down, checked on Lucy, and came back out to say goodnight. You insisted on checking the room, Caspian…I remember. The cordial was still on the nightstand."

"I didn't open the window, Su," Lucy said, looking a bit scared. "Which means…"

Peter had gone pale, and his eyes flickered back and forth between his dear sisters.

"Which means that when Susan came in last night, whatever took the cordial was in here too."

* * *

The Telmarine witch was everything a witch is supposed to be. Coldly beautiful, she eyed the monarchs disdainfully and the Narnians with thinly veiled hate as she entered the bedchamber.

"Your Majesty called for me?" she said, sliding down into a deep curtsey that she obviously didn't mean. The look on both Caspian and Peter's faces said that neither wanted her here. They had had bad experiences with witches. Oddly enough, Edmund, who had had the worst experience one could have with a witch, seemed more at ease.

"We have a need to see the past," the second king of Narnia told her. "We need to see what happened in this room last night."

The witch seemed slightly amused. "Has the King of the Telmarines become so quickly jealous?" she asked with a touch of a smile playing across darkened lips. "Or is it the King of the Narnians that has become the same?"

"Watch your tongue, witch," Trumpkin snapped. "Your kind doesn't hold highly with this crowd."

"And yet it is my company you desire," she murmured, letting her eyes slip over Peter slowly, making the young king blush.

"It won't work," Edmund told her sternly. "We need to see what happened, will you help us or not?"

"My lords, it is a difficult task you set before me. There is no easy way to simply _observe_ the past. One must go deeper, until they are part of it." A sculpted eyebrow rose. "Is that something that you would risk?"

"Is that a threat?" Queen Susan asked from her chair, equally coldly. She was feeling much better by now, but she still rubbed her chest unconsciously every so often, as if it was sore. And she hadn't like this woman from the moment she had entered. "We have the support of Aslan, and it is not wise to try treachery. Either help us because you will, or leave, but utter no falsehoods."

The witch locked stares with Queen Susan, then finally she cast her eyes downward and curtseyed again. "My lady," she murmured.

"Should the ladies be present?" Caspian asked, still watching the witch distrustfully.

"I will see what occurred," Susan said coldly, but the tone was directed at the witch. Lucy murmured agreement.

"As you wish," the witch rose and stepped to the center of the room, between Susan and Lucy's beds. "However, I recommend that no matter what you see, no matter what you hear, you must be silent. Like moths on a wall, even the most royal wings can be crushed."

They exchanged nervous glances as the witch closed her eyes. At first nothing seemed to happen, and they thought that perhaps the woman was not real. True witches are hard to find, and harder to convince to help. But then Lucy noticed that the air was starting to feel colder, as if the afternoon sun had slipped from the sky. The shadows about the room grew longer and deeper. It was not at all like watching moving pictures, when day turns to night. Instead it was as if the air about them had thickened, and that the darkening was more important than it ever seemed at the time. And from his place across the room next to his sisters, Peter felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. For Lucy might have been right next to him, but she was also across the room, lying in bed. The witch's eyes snapped open, black as coal, and she smiled cruelly.

The bells began to ring.

Lucy shivered as she watched herself roll over and tuck the covers about her neck, murmuring in her sleep. Then she went cold as she saw the window begin to jiggle. The youngest queen almost screamed when something touched her hand, until she realized that it was Caspian, taking hold of her comfortingly. The window began to jiggle harder, although the noise was lost beneath the ringing of the bells, and they watched as the latch snapped. The window stilled. Susan found that she was holding her breath as the last rolling toll echoed through the heavy air. Then, ever so very slowly, the window swung out.

A long tapered leg, dark black and as thick as a man's forearm, delicately touched inside. Edmund had recognized it at once and, remembering the witch's warning, clamped his hand over Susan's mouth before she was able to let out a scream. Lucy managed a strangled cry before she too was muffled. Covering his sister's mouth, Peter wished he had covered her eyes as a second leg poked around and then settled next to the first. A third and forth appeared before a much larger body, covered by a tattered ragged cloak, pushed into view. As it crawled through the window, it blotted out the outside completely, with two more legs touching the ground behind it.

Lucy rolled over in her sleep, onto her stomach.

The creature paused, then with an ever so quiet clicking noise, it skittered sideways across the room, right towards the little girl. By this point Peter had covered Lucy's eyes, but his own stared in horror as the creature quite carefully moved up to the bed, legs making imprints in the blankets as it lifted itself up and moved so that it hovered over her. It was weaving slowly, back and forth, as if to a tune that none of them could hear. Unable to see its body or its face, they did see quiet clearly as a thick tail uncoiled from beneath the cloak, curving up and over its back towards its front end. The tail had a sharp tip that gleamed wetly in the darkness, and then the creature stilled. Then quite deliberately the tip lowered until it hovered mere inches from the back of Lucy's neck. Susan grabbed Edmund's hand in horror as she watched the tip just lightly scrape her sister's neck. Lucy flinched, then fell unnaturally still.

That's when it began to feed.

Two long but pencil thin fangs appeared from beneath the cloak, and the creature lowered itself closer. In the same spot as where the tail had touched, the creature bit down just deep enough that the ends of its fangs were in Lucy's neck. A soft noise followed. _It was drinking_.

Laughter in the sitting room caused the thing to snap back, away from Lucy, only moments after biting her. Making a slightly deeper clicking noise, the tail re-curled beneath the cloak. The creature delicately crawled off the bed and onto the floor...up the wall…and onto the ceiling. Therefore it was high above her head when a laughing and wind flushed Susan slipped backwards through the door.

"Just one moment, Caspian," she smiled, closing the door behind her. She paused momentarily and spun a happy little circle. Then she headed towards Lucy, who seemed to be sleeping quite soundly. Peter watched his sister set her bow down next to the night stand, then give the window a small frown. Silently the creature walked the ceiling, staying above her head as Susan closed the window and walked back to the door.

"Everything's alright. Lu's asleep," they could hear her say. There was a moment of silence that followed, in which one may suppose anything they like, but by the soft sigh of Susan afterwards, it isn't hard to guess.

"Good night, Caspian."

"Good night." He paused, then asked almost embarrassedly. "My queen?"

"Hmmmm?"

"May I please check your rooms? I just…I just feel like maybe I should."

"You worry overmuch, Caspian."

"Still…"

"Alright. But don't wake Lucy."

Therefore a trembling and white faced Caspian watched himself move into the room and look around. He even looked up…but not high enough.

"See? All clear," Susan had re-entered the room behind him and gave him a sweet smile. Caspian turned and this time they saw the King take her in a gentle embrace, kissing her lightly. Then he pulled away and brushed his lips over the knuckles of her hand.

"Good night, my queen," he whispered softly, eyes shining.

"Good night, Caspian." It was all Caspian could do not to cry out in despair as he watched himself leave her, leave them both, alone. The queen disrobed and crawled into bed, a peaceful smile on her face, oblivious to what lurked above. It would not do to tell of how the creature descended upon Queen Susan, the same way as Queen Lucy. And it certainly would not do to describe how it numbed her chest, and fed upon her as well. What should be told is that right as the creature seemed to ready itself for a deeper, more deadly drink, the young King could not keep back his cry any longer.

"Get off of her!" Edmund yelled, wild eyed. He knew that Susan stood well beside him, but it didn't matter as he watched her about to die. The creature's head snapped up, and it skittered around in a circle, looking about the empty room. Facing them for the first time, Edmund saw several dark, glittering disks across a rounded face. Eyes. It turned a bit more.

_It looked right at Edmund_.

The young king instinctively stepped back, but his shoulders were already to the wall. Susan leapt from her seat, giving a cry as the creature moved directly towards them, those teeth coming out once more.

"Susan, move!" Edmund cried, reaching to draw his sword. Then the creature halted, for no seeming reason at all, and it cast around, as if blinded. The clicking deepened to a hiss, and it turned. Moving much more quickly now, it crossed the room to the night stand. A single leg end slid the cordial out of its pouch, and then as silently as it had come, the creature was gone. Right as the bedroom door opened, the windows softly shut. Trumpkin stuck his head inside the room, looked around, and then stepped out.

Trumpkin didn't realize he was holding his breath until it exploded from his chest, as they seemed to step out from night back into day. Lucy was hiding against Peter's chest and Susan looked more scared than she ever had in her life.

"Bloody hell," Edmund whispered, looking around at the others. "Is everyone alright?"

No. They really weren't. Susan, who unlike Lucy had watched the entire thing, stumbled out of the bedchamber and into the sitting room, where she was very noisily sick. An ashen Caspian moved from the room to go help her, but the King was shaking like a leaf and looked ready to sick up himself.

"What…" the High King whispered in horror, "was _that_?"

"That, my lord?" The witch had a tiny smile on her face. "That was the Beast of Witherby."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N If I haven't replied to your review yet, I apologize. So many are coming in that it's hard to get to them all and still get the story out quickly. I assumed you all would rather have a new chapter than review replies. This is shorter because it kind of ties up the last chapter. To have combined them would have been too long a chapter, in my opinion.

**The Lost Chronicles of Narnia: The Beast of Witherby**

Chapter Six

"Well, I best be off then. Can't let it get too much of a head start."

Peter, the High King of Narnia, looked at his brother. Edmund had a resigned expression on his face as he stood up from his chair. They had taken them all a while to recover from the shock of what they had seen and the use of magic to see it. In the corner, Dr. Cornelius had spent the last hour digging up any reference he could find of the Beast, but as of yet he had come up with nothing. The witch had refused to give any more details beyond the thing's name, and she seemed to grow more tightlipped with the questioning. When asked where it could be found, the witch had simply risen and left the room.

"She wasn't very helpful," Peter had muttered, right before Edmund had stood up and said what he had said.

"We don't even know where it is going, sire," Cornelius stated. "Witherby is not on any map that I can find."

"Then we'll just have to track it," Edmund shrugged. "It wouldn't be the first time we had to do things the hard way."

"Ed, don't you think that it will simply hide as soon it hears the men coming?" Peter asked dubiously. "If it can hide in a room with even Caspian not seeing it, then can you imagine being out in the woods with it? It would be on top of you before you ever saw it coming. Assuming that you managed to follow it that far."

"Anything that walks on earth will leave some kind of mark," Ironhoof spoke up quietly from behind Peter. "With the right guide, it can be found."

"Do you have someone in mind?" Peter wanted to know. "Because as good as we are, I think this one is beyond us, Ed." The High King was not trying to boast, he was simply speaking the truth. In their times as Kings of Old, they could hunt and track with the best of them. It had always been important that Narnian kings and queens be as capable, or more so, than their subjects. It was not a throne for the faint of heart.

"I have an idea, although I don't know how to pull it off quite yet." Edmund gave his elder brother that quirky grin he got when he knew he was about to do something ridiculously dangerous. "But I think that the group is going to have to be small. I don't want it knowing we're coming behind."

"Edmund?" Peter had that warning tone. "What are you planning?"

"Why don't you just leave this one up to me, Pete? And then when it all works out in the end, we can sit back on our thrones and you can tell me how brilliant I am." Edmund's dark eyes locked on Peter's blue ones, much more serious that his words had been. Older eyes than two boys ought to rightfully have.

What no one knew, with perhaps the exception of his siblings, there was two different Peter Pevensies. The first Peter, the young one that we have come to know so far, objected vehemently to watching his little brother set off upon this quest at all. Especially when Edmund quite obviously didn't want him to know how he planned on pulling it off. The young Peter, the rash and stubborn boy from England, said no a thousand times to this. But there was a second Peter Pevensie, one that had sat upon a throne for much longer than these last few months, and in his time as High King he had learned a few very important lessons. The first was one that King Caspian had yet to grasp: that no matter how hard you tried, a single man could not control everything, and therefore had to be willing to adjust on a moment's notice. The second and most important was this: that if there was one person in the world that he should trust in, without any doubt or regret, it was his brother. So while the younger Peter, the outside one, was full of doubt and fear, the older one inside had agreed before Edmund had spoken. Peter had known that Edmund would do this, and that he would not stand in his brother's way.

"Who will you take with you?" Peter finally asked, voice soft. Edmund nodded slightly, letting out a tight breath. The younger Edmund had on some level hoped the big brother would have stopped him. But that wasn't the world they lived in now, and each day they spent here the more the older king in them both showed through.

"Trumpkin, if he agrees. And Reepicheep."

"I am with you to the death, Sire," the Mouse said strongly, tail twitching. "And we shall find this Beast and put it down properly."

"Thank you, good Knight," Edmund said solemnly. Trumpkin just grunted.

"You couldn't 'ave stopped me anyway," the dwarf stated. "But I'm no better a tracker than your Majesty."

"We'll deal with that later," Edmund said quietly.

"Will you say goodbye to the girls?" Peter asked, but he knew the answer before it came. Edmund shook his head ruefully.

"And get lectured about the danger? No thanks. Tell them…tell them I love them. And tell Lu not to cry, I'll get her bauble back." In truth had it been a mere bauble, the King wouldn't have been going at all. But this thing had not only stolen a national treasure, it had about killed both their sisters, and neither brother was going to stand by and let that go unanswered.

"Well, as I said, I best be off." Edmund walked over to Peter and gripped his arm tightly. Peter opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again.

"Come back safe, Ed. Send word if you can."

"What? You think I'll be thinking of you boring lot while I'm off having an adventure?" Edmund smirked. Then, after a pause so small that only Peter caught it, he turned and left with Trumpkin and Reepicheep in tow. It took a brave man to do what Edmund was doing. It took a braver one to sit back and let it happen, despite how badly he wanted to be going as well. Perhaps that's why it was Peter who was the High King.

* * *

The trio rode from the palace, with the paced deliberateness that only comes from knowing you've a long road ahead of you.

After a lifetime and a half with her family, Susan had known he was going, and therefore had found herself on the walls of the palace, watching Edmund slip away. She knew why he hadn't said goodbye, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. So she had watched expressionless as her younger brother rode off to make things right once more, as had been his habit when they were kings and queens of old.

A figure joined her on the walls, but stood back a ways respectfully.

"He'll come back," Susan said simply, knowing she had to have faith that it was true. The tall Telmarine put his hand on his sword silently and she looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Do you wish you were going as well?"

"Yes, my queen," Lord Tenneth spoke softly, but his voice was hard. "It is--" he stopped his words.

"It is what?" Susan encouraged. "You may speak freely, my lord."

"It is difficult to watch the burdens of the monarchy be laid upon shoulders so young."

Susan smiled ruefully. "Technically Tenneth, the burden of this monarchy are on shoulders older than yours, by Narnian time."

The general nodded, even if he didn't agree, then was silent until the riders disappeared into the deep forests below. Tenneth turned and bowed deeply to Susan.

"His Majesty has requested that I attend you personally, Queen Susan."

"A general as a bodyguard?" Susan raised an eyebrow. "That seems like overkill."

"His Majesty is protective." By his face there was something more.

"And?"

"And at this point I would rather guard you myself then entrust it to another."

"The centaurs feel the same way, as do the Mice," she reminded him gently. Tenneth shook his head.

"The centaurs are strong and fierce, but they are too large for close fighting in tight corridors. The Mice are brave and loyal, but a blade can only go so far, and they lack the strength sometimes necessary. I… I would just rather do it myself, after all that has happened."

Susan accepted that, thinking back upon the day. The image of the Beast was still fresh in her mind, but she had decided hours ago that she would not let the fear she still felt rule her. Besides, the reason why Edmund had left was because _it_ had left. If it had any sort of intelligence or need for self preservation, then coming back to the castle would be last thing it would do. As Edmund was long gone, and there was no hope of seeing him again for a great while, Susan turned and looked at her newest guard.

"Well then, general," she said. "What shall we do now?"

"Would your Majesty like to return to your quarters to rest? It has been a stressful day, and you were injured last night."

"Actually, sleep is the last thing I want right now." Susan grimaced and she shuddered a bit. "How hard would it be to make sure that window is sealed completely shut?"

"At once your Majesty," Tenneth immediately spun on a heel and headed towards one of his soldiers to give the order. As she waited, Susan glanced one last time at the spot her brother had disappeared from.

"Be safe, Edmund," she whispered sadly. Then, holding her head high, the Queen of Narnia descended into a castle she was beginning to distrust, no matter who owned it.

* * *

The calico kitten (or perhaps Kitten) had taken the brunt of the little girl's tears on top of its fluffy diminutive head. So when Caspian found Queen Lucy tucked away by herself up in one of the towers, crying unhappily, the kitten gave a plaintive mew and squirmed out of her arms. It gave Caspian a look of thanks as it weaved between his boots and bolted through the open door.

"Lucy?"

The youngest queen sniffed wetly at his worried call and brushed her sleeve over her face, trying to hide the fact that she had been crying. Having never had a sister before, nor having any other children to play with, the Telmarine had little experience with comforting sad little girls. So he sat next to her quietly, thinking about what he should say. Fortunately it was much easier to get what was wrong out of her than it ever had been with Susan.

"Edmund left without saying goodbye," Lucy burst out, snuffling and looking quite upset. "All because of me, and because of my cordial. I should've had it locked up the way Peter used to have me do, and now Ed's off. I just know it's bound to be so _dangerous_…" With that she started to cry a little again. Having seen Peter handle her once when she was upset at the How, Caspian wrapped his arm about her shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze. And here he had thought she was upset because of the Beast. She was such a brave girl.

"And Peter just let him go!" she added, as if that was the kicker.

"Queen Lucy, if you were to trust anyone in the world to get back that cordial, who would you trust?"

She sniffed but didn't reply.

"Because, if it were up to me," Caspian continued. "I would choose one of the great heroes of this country. One who had done braver, more dangerous deeds than this, and come out all right in the end."

"Edmund shouldn't have to be a hero over my Christmas gift," Lucy said sadly, wrapping her kitten scratched arms around his waist and pressing her red nose against his tunic.

"But dear Lucy," Caspian ran a hand over her hair soothingly. "What is only a Christmas gift to you is one of Narnia's greatest treasures. That is why we must have it back. Not just for us, and for the power that it holds, but also for the people. It is a part of Narnia's golden history, as much as Peter's sword, or S… her Majesty's horn, or even Edmund's bravery. To lose it would hurt more than the just the lives lost from not using the cordial."

"You sound like Peter, when he's older."

"I am learning much from the High King."

"He's just a _brother_," Lucy sniffed, but she seemed to be doing better. "You're lucky you didn't have any. They are dreadful teases until they grow up, and then if they're Edmund, then they are always. Peter is not so bad."

A deep chuckle rose from Caspian's chest, and Lucy looked up at him.

"What?"

"The greatest King this land has ever known, and to you he is 'not so bad'," the Telmarine was grinning. "I do love you, Lu." The little girl smiled and hugged him tighter, not realizing that the young king had never uttered those words to a single soul before, and had not expected to say them now. But as he kissed Lucy on the top of the head, he realized it was true. It was a much easier love to understand, that of a stand-in brother. His feelings for her sister were much more complicated.

"See? I told Susan you were much nicer than the others. Oh dear, I've snotted on your tunic. I'm so sorry, Caspian!"

He probably could have done without that particular turn of phrase. It had been better when he had thought the wetness was from tears.

"Then shall we make a pact, my little Lucy?"

"What is that?" Her eyes were shining now as Caspian pulled her to her feet and swung her around a bit.

"I, Caspian the Tenth, shall never leave you alone with anything bad ever again," he smiled although it didn't reach his eyes. "And you, Queen Lucy the Valiant, shall never snot on me again. Deal?"

"Deal!"

In old Narnia it had been a tradition to spit upon one's palm and shake hands when making a pact. Apparently Lucy decided it was a tradition that should not have died out. So they spat and shook, and Caspian secretly thought that maybe he should have just let her snot him again instead.

"Come, your Majesty," he told her with a playful bow. "Supper awaits and I have been royally commanded to present myself."

"Perhaps you should change your shirt," Lucy said wisely. Then her eyes widened. "Oh! Where's my cat gone to?"

"Perhaps, I shall," Caspian agreed. "And then we can find your kitten."

Hand in hand, they descended the tower and headed across the palace grounds. Queen Lucy never noticed the cold steel in his eyes, or that Caspian's hand had never left his sword once when she was in his sight.

* * *

The problem with alerting the people that a cordial has gone missing is that they were a bit too eager to find it and gain favor with the kings and queens. Everything that looked like at some point it could have been related to a cordial was brought to the palace. Eventually they had to set the fauns to sending away the hopefuls, telling them that the cordial was located and in the process of being returned. Still unable to completely give up, most left the bottles with the Fauns, who had no idea what to do with several hundred unlabelled liquids. Many Telmarine women found their perfumes missing the next day, and unhappily went to market smelling like themselves until they could purchase new.

It was the best day the sensitive nosed Cats had had in a great while.

* * *

Supper was an uncomfortable affair.

No one really had any desire to eat after the events of today, although Peter insisted that both Lucy and Susan do so, by the healer's directions. But every time they tried, they couldn't help but look at the empty seat next to Peter. It was a glaringly obvious reminder that their brother had gone off to face danger, alone, and it was also a reminder of why he had gone. No one spoke about it, but the Beast was not far from anyone's mind. Caspian had been wordless the whole meal, picking at his greens and looking at everything but Susan. As far as any of them knew, the King had not spoken a word to her since the witch. Finally, feeling as if the weight of the prolonged silences was crushing her, Lucy decided to speak up.

"Oh please, it's awful enough already, isn't it? Can't we at least talk about it?" she asked plaintively.

"What would you have us say, Lu?" Peter asked, running a hand through his blonde hair. He looked especially grim this evening.

"How about how you sent Edmund off alone to face that thing?" Susan spoke up, unable to resist. "You act as if he's the adult he used to be."

"I act that way because he is, Su," Peter retorted, his voice held forcibly calm. "Out of all of us, Ed's got the best head on his shoulders and he's the best with a blade or in a fight."

"Being able to handle a sword doesn't make you invincible, Peter. And being able to fight doesn't mean you always win." She leveled a look at him. "If anyone should know that it would be you."

"Then what would you have me do?" Peter was quickly losing his temper, and his face had that reddish tint it got when he was angry. "If not him, then who else?"

"How about anyone else," Susan stated. It has to be remembered at this point that she wasn't being needlessly difficult. Edmund was her little brother, and the part of Susan that had not as of yet become completely Narnian was not happy about it. "How about yourself…" she added under her breath. Peter heard quite clearly.

"What, you think I didn't _want_ to go?" His eyes were flashing and Caspian had become stiff, uncomfortable at watching the pair fight. "I would much rather be out there with him then in here with you lot, I can tell you that much."

"I take it back," Lucy said in a little voice. "Can we go back to not talking about it?"

"Why, Lu?" Susan couldn't help edging Peter on. Really, she was angry at herself more than Peter, but there was no one to take it out on, and that's what siblings are for. "I think we should talk. I think that Peter has forgotten that we are all monarchs of Narnia, and should have some say in what happens. Like whether or not we send Edmund off to _die_ by himself."

Lucy gave Susan a devastated look, then she bolted out of the room with tears in her eyes.

"Happy now, are you?" Peter said to Susan, as he stood up and went followed after Lucy. Susan bit her lip stubbornly and stared down at her plate, angrily stabbing peas with her fork. She waited for Caspian to say something, to tell her how unreasonable she was being, but he remained silent. Finally she gave up and pushed away from the table, standing up.

"I'm off to bed," she said, heading for the door. Then she froze, thinking about it. Bed. _Her bedchambers_. It was probably the last place in the world she wanted to be right now, but there was no way she could tell anyone that. How would it look for a queen of Narnia to be scared of her own room? Taking a deep breath, Susan resolutely stepped on.

As she passed by Caspian, his hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her. He still didn't say anything, looking down at the table distantly, and his face was grim. Susan swayed a little where she stood, opening her mouth to speak. Nothing came. The grip on her wrist was gentle, but unyielding.

"How did I let that happen?" She finally asked him in a pained voice, her eyes closed. "Poor Lu could've died. And now Edmund's out there all alone."

"I have been asking myself the same, all day," Caspian whispered, and she could hear the guilt there. Unable to take another discussion about her safety, not tonight, Susan started to pull past. But his grip tightened, almost painfully.

"Do not leave, my queen." It was softly spoken, but a command all the same. She wondered what it would mean if she obeyed, what that would change, and if out of self preservation she should withdraw. The young king finally turned and looked at her with haunted eyes, but there was something more there too. Something that spoke deeply of need, and it made Susan shiver. She really should withdraw.

That's what she told herself as she stepped closer to him. That's what she told herself when he stood abruptly and pulled her up into his arms, kissing her with more heat and aggression than she was prepared for. That's what she told herself when she found her back to the door, Caspian's hands taking control and her urging him on wordlessly, shamelessly, because she needed to feel anything other than the fear that rolled inside her. Her moaning as he kissed her neck, her shoulder, the curve of her breast. His mouth swearing the whole time that he would never let her be harmed again. Susan really should withdraw.

Actually, when she realized what she was doing, Susan fled.

* * *

"So young King, would you like to tell me about this secretive next part?" Trumpkin asked as they continued riding even after darkness had fallen. The Dwarf knew there was no way that Edmund would be able to track it now, so he was confused as to why they were still riding. Behind Trumpkin from his place on the horse's rump, Reepicheep eyed their surrounding warily.

"It is a dangerous time to ride these woods," the Knight Mouse warned the king, even if he was not personally alarmed. Actually Reepicheep enjoyed danger, but he had felt obligated to point it out.

"Hmmm?" was Edmund's only reply, his sharp eyes on the ground.

"Beards and beardcombs, King Edmund!" Trumpkin finally exclaimed. "What are you looking for, because it can't be the Beast. We'll end up wasting energy and time like this."

"Have faith, good dwarf. And until we return, it's just Edmund, or Ed, to you two. I don't want to spend the rest of this adventure stumbling over honorifics at every turn." Reepicheep was about to protest the lack of respect, but Edmund raised his hand, cutting him off and stopping the horses. Edmund's mount, a roan chosen for his stamina more than beauty or strength, shifted nervously beneath his rider. Reepicheep's nose had started to twitch.

"Sire! There is something out there!" The Mouse declared, drawing his blade.

"Put it away, Reepicheep," Edmund barked. "Quickly, unless you want to put us in a spot we cannot get out of."

Warily the Mouse sheathed his blade, and Trumpkin found his own mount sidestepping and rolling his eyes.

"My lor… err, Edmund? What are we waiting for?"

Edmund's eyes were resting on a tall collection of boulders off to his right, and Trumpkin finally saw what his king was looking at. On the top of the boulders, a heavy grey body slinked, golden eyes shining out of the darkness.

"His _foolishness_ waits for us," the mighty Wolf said as it rose to its full height. His white teeth gleamed in the moonlight as he grinned maliciously down at the three. Then he raised his huge muzzle up to the sky and howled, a great eerie warble that echoed through the trees.

"Edmund?" Trumpkin's voice grew harsh. "They're all around us!"

"I know," the king seemed unconcerned, and his eyes never left the Wolf before him, who was certainly a Pack Leader amongst Pack Leaders. And it was true. As the forest filled with pairs of blinking eyes, they found themselves surrounded by so many Wolves that there had to have been at least several Packs together. The Dwarf, who had only fought alongside a few rogue Wolves at Boruna, shivered as more howls filled the night, everywhere. Everywhere.

"Your Majesty!" Reepicheep cried out bravely. "The Dwarf and I will try and hold them off while you make your escape!"

"Stay yourself, Reepicheep," Edmund said, a quirky smile on his face. "I'm not going anywhere."

"No!" The Wolf snarled, teeth bared as it flung itself off the rocks, directly at the King of Narnia. "You will _**not**_!"

* * *

Caspian the Tenth, King of Narnia, Ruler of the Telmarines, sat on his throne as the sun rose behind it. His leg was draped over the arm and he was looking at the stained glass, lost in thought. He had not slept all night, and he looked reflective in the morning light. Lord Donnon interrupted this as he clunked into the throne room.

"Your Majesty is awake early today," Donnon remarked, giving a slightly mocking bow. "Perhaps he has already heard the great news."

Caspian slowly pulled himself to the present, and his dark eyes turned onto the Lord. He sighed resignedly and sat up.

"What is this news?" he asked, finding that he didn't really care. He should have.

"The Duke of Galma is on his way, your Majesty, to pledge to you his support. He brings supplies, having heard of the fire, but he also brings knights and horses in the hopes that we will hold another tournament." Donnon was more pleased than he should have been, so much so that Caspian noticed. Or else he was just growing more distrustful of these Telmarine lords.

"And?" he pressed. The lord's eyes gleamed, much as does that of a pouncing wolf.

"He brings with him his daughter and her dowry should you accept her hand in marriage, which he is sure you will." Caspian's head snapped up and he opened his mouth, but the Lord Donnon was already leaving, a triumphant grin on his face.

Outside the trumpets blared to announce the arrival of the Duke and his daughter.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Lost Chronicles of Narnia: The Beast of Witherby**

Chapter Seven

Had Edmund been the size he used to be, that is to say much taller, it never would have worked. That being said, things didn't quite go as planned.

The Wolf leapt directly at Edmund, teeth bared and snarling, intending on pulling him from his horse. Edmund had been pretty sure that was going to happen. So while Trumpkin and Reepicheep had been going on, the king had pulled his feet from the stirrups (no sense in getting hung up, see how well it had worked out for Caspian!) and had loosened his limbs. Therefore when the Wolf lunged, Edmund had already started falling back over the side of his mount, missing the snapping jaws. What he hadn't taken into account was how much heavier the Wolf was than him. So as it tumbled over with him, it partially crushed him down as they rolled, trapping his arm into the dirt and keeping him from drawing his sword completely.

It was almost his undoing.

There was a soft scraping noise and a grunt of pain from himself. For a brief moment the world was only coarse grey fur, spinning darkness, and hot rancid breath in his face, much too close for comfort. Then the pair stopped rolling and it was only by pure luck that Edmund came out on top, straddling the wolf with his elbow lodged so deep in its throat that it was making a choking sound. Not really knowing what else to do, and unable to give the prearranged signal, the young man held on as it flipped over. Jaws snapped as the Wolf cursed and clawed at him, but the boy king wouldn't let go, and being beneath his neck like that, the Wolf could not get at him with his teeth. But a Wolf, especially this one, is much stronger than a human, and eventually it succeeded in dislodging Edmund and tossing him aside. Edmund skidded back, a low whistle escaping his throat, and he braced himself as the Wolf crept forward.

"Clever boy, but not clever enough," the Wolf snarled.

"Are you sure about that?" Edmund gasped, a bit more jovially then Trumpkin thought was proper, considering the king was about to be eaten. Noticing that his stomach was cooler than normal, the Wolf glanced down and realized that the edge of Edmund's half drawn sword had neatly shaved his belly, and the Creature shook in fury.

"You will pay for that, boy!" he growled, and then he leapt.

A huge taloned foot caught the Wolf midair and slammed him back into the dirt at Edmund's feet. The Wolf yelped in painful surprise and twisted, biting at what pinned him down, uttering a string of curses best left unmentioned here. The great Eagle Alanar dipped his mighty head and let out an awful screech, before shifting his weight forward. The Wolf's words cut off with a strangled grunt.

"Thanks awfully," Edmund said, meaning every word of it as he stood up and brushed his hands off. He looked around at the rest of the snarling Packs. "Now then, I would recommend quieting up a bit, you lot. Unless you decide to attack us, I'm not going to hurt him, not a Pack Leader as glorious as…what was your name again, Sir Wolf?"

The Wolf just glared until Alanar dipped his razor sharp beak closer, mere inches from the Wolf's throat.

"Maugrim," the Wolf snarled, then yelped as he was squished for his tone. Belatedly he added a strangled "Your Majesty."

Edmund looked at him, confused. "I knew a Wolf named Maugrim before. Unpleasant chap. I thought Narnians didn't make a habit of repeating names."

"It is not a _name_, it is a Title, you foolish human…oww! Wretched flier, I'll not have a head left it you don't ease off," Maugrim growled.

"I didn't know that," Edmund said. "Never heard it before."

"Perhaps if the Kings and Queens of Narnia had spent less time _exiling_ us Wolves and more time _listening_ to us, then perhaps you would know something worth knowing."

"Perhaps," Edmund allowed. "But that is the past and this is the present. What is the Title of Maugrim?"

"I am _The_ Pack Leader," he replied, golden eyes glittering.

"So then, you're the one I need to talk with." Edmund, being either quite stupid or quite brave, sat down next to where the Wolf was pinned. "I'm going to have Alanar let you up now, but know that if you turn on us, or any of these Packs do, the other Eagles watching will report back to the High King and King Caspian. They will take both armies and wipe out every last one of you, except for the Rogues that fought with us at Boruna. Now, Alanar, please release him."

Giving a look almost bordering reproach to the king, the Eagle let go of the Wolf. Maugrim rolled over and rose to his feet, looking for all the world as if he wished to tear the throat out of the young man in front of him. But legend had told of more than just the High King's dangerousness, but also of King Edmund's honesty. The duty of a Maugrim was to _lead_ the Packs, not to allow them to be exterminated. The Maugrim that Edmund had known was the most cursed one in Wolfish history, and they still paid for the mistakes he had made. Angry as he was, this Maugrim knew better. This King was not lying.

"I'll forgive the attack," Edmund said simply. "But in return I need something from you Wolves."

"What is that?" Maugrim asked warily. "Wolves are not in the habit of doing favors, unless of course they are a Rogue _dog_." The last part was spoken with as much derision that could be voiced. Amongst the gathered Wolves, a low growl of agreement arose. Obviously there was no love lost.

"It is not a favor," Edmund spoke sharply. "It is a command from your King."

"We Wolves have no King," Maugrim countered amusedly, seeming to relax as he lay down. The Wolf was so large that he was still on eye level with the king, although deliberately a touch higher. "And we ignore the barking of pups."

"Watch your tongue, you ruffian!" Reepicheep couldn't help himself, but Edmund ignored him. In fact, he had almost forgotten the two were there, what with how quiet they had been.

"And yet you live in a kingdom ruled by three." There was steel in his voice, enough so that he had the Wolf's attention. "You hunt and whelp and die in forests that I could have cut down at any time. You run fields that I could burn, and you live off Creatures that do as I bid."

"We have made a Pact with Wolfsbane!" Maugrim almost barked. "Or does he refuse our Peace?"

"You have broken the Pact by attacking me, without warning or reason," Edmund retorted, starting to look irritated.

"The agreement is to not hunt and feed off Animals," the Wolf reminded him. "But there was nothing about allowing trespassers free access onto our lands."

"_My_ lands, Wolf Lord. Not yours, mine. Which I hold in care for the people of Narnia. Having never pledged to the throne, you Wolves have lowest priority when it comes to territory."

They did **not** like hearing that. The snarls and growls from all around him filled the forest, unceasing until Maugrim raised his muzzle in the air and let out a deep howl. The Packs fell silent.

"You make threats that you will not see through," Maugrim called his bluff, to which Edmund gave a smirk.

"Try me, Wolf. I hear the outskirts of Narnia are especially hot this time of year, and food scarce."

Maugrim stared at him silently, then rose to his haunches. The Creature was trembling with fury, but it did him justice that he contained it, his voice calm. "What is it that you would have us do, King of the Narnians?"

Edmund let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

"I'm in search of the Beast of Witherby, the creature that you warned my sister about. It stole into the castle last night and caused harm to both the Queens, before slipping away with something important. I need your Packs to find its trail, and I need a guide in which to help me track it to its lair."

"And in return for our help?" Maugrim asked flatly. Edmund looked about, making sure to make eye contact with as many individuals as possible.

"In return, I will forgive the attack tonight. I will uphold the Pact, and act as a Mediator between the Wolves and the throne. But most importantly, Maugrim Pack Leader, I will give you back something that the Wolves of Narnia lost centuries before now." Edmund leaned forward, intently. "I will give you back your Honor, lost at the feet of the White Witch so many generations ago."

The Wolves of Narnia considered this, even as they considered eating these three and being done with it. The Eagle complicated things, but could possibly be brought down with enough numbers. It would feed them for awhile. They considered these things, as Maugrim considered Edmund. Finally the Wolf rose to his feet, lifted his muzzle in the air, and let out another echoing cry. The other Wolves hesitated momentarily before fading into the darkness silently.

"We will help you find this Beast," Maugrim said. Then his tongue rolled out and he grinned at them like the Wolf he was. "And I shall go with you, to make sure you keep your promises."

"Thank you, Maugrim," Edmund inclined his head. As the Wolf himself slipped off into the forest, he spoke quite clearly in his rumbling voice.

"Do not thank me yet, pup King."

There was silence for a full minute before Trumpkin finally managed to get his rapidly beating heart under control.

"Well, that was stupid," the Dwarf said, his eyes wide as he stared at his King. Edmund had started laughing, so much so that he fell back into the grass.

"No, Trumpkin," Edmund gasped in relief. "That was _bloody_ stupid."

"At least we're in agreement," Trumpkin muttered, then went about trying to catch Edmund's loose horse, an awed Reepicheep in tow.

Alanar, the only Eagle in the forest that night, said nothing and simply winged up silently into the sky.

* * *

One of the things that Susan had always enjoyed about being in Narnia was the opportunity upon state occasions to get dressed up in finery. And as the Queen, it was important that she looked the part. Unfortunately looking the part was much nicer than the process of being made to look the part. So at the unexpected arrival of the Duke of Galma, Susan found herself surrounded by a flurry of activity as her ladies and Creatures in waiting desperately tried to help her get ready in time. Lucy never took long, since she was so young it was allowed for her to look less polished. Unfortunately, the same was not true of Susan.

"Her Majesty must look the part," a nervous Badger insisted, pulling and tugging at her corset. Susan was leaning against a bedpost, wincing each time the constricting garment sucked her tighter.

"Mrs. Badger," Susan gasped after a particularly rough jerk. "Must it be so tight?"

"Sorry dear," she apologized. "But it looks like the seamstress took your gown in a bit too much, and that's the only one we've got right now." The Badger, who had been in charge of Susan's clothes, looked embarrassed. "I sent the rest to be altered, my Queen, what with the weight you've lost this last few weeks, a wonder that, must not be eating enough or else worrying yourself to death… And if anyone had thought to give us a bit of a warning, then I could have sent the dresses out sooner--"

Mrs. Badger continued to prattle on worriedly, and Susan grabbed on tightly to the bedpost, only half listening.

"--such a shame because all that finery at Cair Paravel just didn't fit anymore, I do say I think her Majesty has an inch or two yet to grow. There you go dear, I think that has you tucked in tight enough…you look a bit peaked child, do you need me to loosen it for a moment?"

"And have you re-tighten it up again?" Susan just about whimpered at the thought. "No thanks."

"Okay, now then with the dress."

Getting into a formal gown is not nearly as easy as one might think; it certainly isn't the same as pulling on a skirt or a simple dress. No, these kinds of gowns were of delicate fabrics, beaded and sewn with tiny threads, and one could not touch any part of it wrong unless they wanted to find all those bits of pearl and jewels on the floor. So Susan bent over as if she was diving and held quite still as Mrs. Badger and a beautiful Dwarf named Rosetta slid the gown over her head and down the rest of her.

"They say that the Duke of Galma is pressing for an engagement," Rosetta said, tugging the skirts in place. Susan realized that she couldn't breathe in this dress, and then decided that there wasn't much she could do about it besides get a new seamstress.

"The daughter of a Duke for our High King?" Mrs. Badger said scornfully. "Why that's just preposterous."

"Not the High King, Badger," Rosetta continued, risking a glance at Susan. "King Caspian."

Susan said nothing, and in fact her expression only seemed to become smoother. Reversely, Mrs. Badger became positively irate.

"Lord Caspian? Why that's… that's insulting that is! As if any in the world couldn't see that the young king is madly in love with our Queen--" She was promptly but gently reprimanded.

"Be easy, Mrs. Badger," Susan said softly. "It does not become us to gossip this way. The King's heart is a private affair and shall remain that way until he sees fit to make it known."

"Sorry, your Majesty," the Badger apologized, looking embarrassed. Rarely did Queen Susan reprimand anyone that wasn't her siblings or their equals. Rosetta echoed the apology, blushing prettily. (It might be mentioned that Rosetta's blush was the only thing that made rough old Trumpkin weak in the knees, but that's a tale for another day.)

Silently the two finished their work, a bit abashed, and politely curtseyed before leaving her with the lady in waiting that would finish her hair. Alone with the woman, whom Susan had found quiet and pleasant company, the queen allowed herself to slump a bit. That is to say, her shoulders slumped. The rest of her was held straight by the dress. Susan was thankful it was modestly cut, or this would be indecent to wear in public. She wondered briefly if it was too old fashioned, as many of her clothes were, and if she would look a fool in court in front of the Duke and his daughter.

"Are you able to sit, your Majesty?" Mari, the lady in waiting, asked her sympathetically. Susan gingerly sat, although found it more difficult than standing. But Mari was just as short as she was, a slip of a blonde young woman, and it was necessary so she could braid and pin Susan's hair properly. Susan let out a breath, wishing she could take a decent one back in. How silly, going through this just to look proper in front of a girl that Susan was trying hard not to dislike straight away. It wasn't fair to blame her; she might not have any say in the matter. She might take one look at Caspian and beg her father to change his mind.

"As if _that_ would happen," Susan muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes at herself. Take one look at the King and the girl was likely to do the exact opposite.

"Is this too uncomfortable for you, your Majesty?" Mari inquired, and Susan shook her head glumly.

"I'm a Queen of Narnia," she told Mari, but in truth she was talking to herself. "I must be able to sit through such matters of state without letting my personal feelings affect me. I have been, well _was_ courted enough to know that it isn't uncommon for a suit to be pressed. Caspian is… he is strong enough to decide what he wants without caving to external pressures. He will do as he chooses, whatever that may be."

There was silence after Susan's speech, then Mari blushed a bit and bobbed a little curtsey.

"I meant are the pins too uncomfortable, my lady?" the woman explained, looking embarrassed to have seemed to be prying. Susan realized her mistake, then she started to smile.

"They are fine. Pins are not called 'pillows' for a reason. And that was quite silly of me, wasn't it Mari?" she asked with a little laugh. The lady smiled back.

"I just need to get through this without making a fool of myself," Susan sighed. "I'm aware of the rumors that are running about, and even though things are not as they seem to the people, that does not stop them from wanting to see how I handle this. Especially if Caspian ends up favoring her…" She didn't know why it was easier saying this in front of another human. Maybe because the Telmarines didn't look at the Pevensies with as much awe and admiration as the old Narnians, and thus made her feel a bit more normal.

"The Telmarines gossip because it fills their time, not their minds." The lady in waiting's words were clipped.

"You say that as if gossip angers you," Susan raised an eyebrow. Mari blushed deeper, biting her lip as she tucked back a sweep of hair from Susan's brow.

"You may speak freely, Mari," she told her lady gently. "You may be a Telmarine, but we are all Narnians. You have the right to speak your mind to even the High King."

"If I were to speak my mind, my Queen," she sounded hesitant, but sincere. "Then I would say that the Queen has nothing to fear. I know what it's like to have a man look at you as if you are the only thing in the room. And when her majesty is with the king, there is no one else he sees. The daughter of Galma could be a great beauty, but it will not matter."

Susan gave her lady in waiting a thankful smile, than she said, "That man you speak of must be special."

"He…he was. Yes, my lady, he truly was." The muted grief in her voice caused Susan to fall silent, but not before reaching out and giving the woman's hand a gentle squeeze.

* * *

The daughter of the Duke of Galma squinted. And she had freckles. Caspian didn't know why that stood out so much in his mind as he bowed to the young lady, but it did. Therefore if someone asked what he thought of her, than that was what he was going to reply, polite or not. Because really, if anyone had bothered to ask if Caspian wanted these two to come calling, he would have certainly said no. There was way too much for the young king to have to think about, without having the ginger haired Lady Gerdi staring at him as if he was a prized horse she wished to buy. It was almost embarrassing.

Peter certainly seemed amused.

"I believe that it is love at first sight," Peter murmured to Caspian, his eyes sparkling mischievously as the lady curtseyed yet a third time, showing a gloriously dangerous amount of freckled cleavage. Their words were covered by the loud announcements of Galma's entourage and the many knights to the people. Some were well known to the Telmarine commoners from previous tournaments and they cheered mightily.

"Perhaps the High King is interested in taking a wife himself," Caspian replied out of the corner of his mouth.

"I would never enter contest with you for a lady, my friend," Peter snickered. "Not even one as doe-eyed and enthusiastic as that one seems to be."

"I am not sure how that dress is even staying on," Caspian whispered, raising an eyebrow dubiously.

"Oh, they use tape glued with honey," Lucy piped in, blissfully unaware as she slipped in line next to Peter. "Susan once told me that was how the more… what was her word? _Eager_ girls did it. I never did quite understand what she meant, though. How does one eagerly wear a dress so tight?"

Peter coughed and Caspian grew red in the face, and both kings bit back laughs.

"Speaking of which, shouldn't Susan be here to greet them too?" she continued.

"Oh, that's a good idea," Peter snorted, once again smirking at the uncomfortable Caspian. "In a bit of a spot, are you?"

"Your Majesty's amusement at my expense is unkind," Caspian retorted, looking a bit wild about the eyes. "Perhaps the queen won't arrive…"

"Perhaps you ought to start running right now," the High King suggested, noticing that Susan was on her way towards them, looking very regal in her attire. She also looked quite important with the fully armored general, Lord Tenneth, a step behind.

"Running from what?" Lucy whispered, as Gerdi once more tried to catch Caspian's eye as she curtseyed _very_ deeply.

"From those," Peter smirked, getting a befuddled look from Lucy, and no reply from Caspian. Craning his head, he saw that his friend was staring unabashedly at Susan. Peter had to admit, she did turn out well, for a sister and all. The Lady Gerdi followed Caspian's gaze, then frowned briefly. Susan stepped onto the platform, and with a tiny smile for them all, she turned to the Duke of Galma.

"My Duke," Susan said kindly, with the slightest nod of her head. "Lady Gerdi. Welcome to our home. I trust you had a pleasant journey?"

The Duke, a paunchy redheaded man named Hornabret (poor fellow), looked at Susan with slightly widened eyes. Then he swept down into a dramatic bow, taking her hand.

"Her Majesty is as beautiful as the stories have said," he oozed, pressing an overlong kiss to her knuckles and did not look like he planned on releasing her hand anytime soon. "Narnia has been too long deprived of such a flower."

"The Duke is kind," Susan replied, wondering if he was going to let go. He wasn't. Lucy rolled her eyes, Peter groaned silently, but Caspian's eyes narrowed.

"My lady has not been to Galma for a long time," he said with an oily smile. Then he kissed her hand again, mouth there even longer.

"I have not been to many places for a long time, dear Duke," Susan chuckled, then she shot Peter a helpless look.

"Hornabret, my esteemed Queen. Please call me Hornabret. May I call you Queen Susan, at your pleasure? It is such a beautiful name…"

Caspian gave a pointed cough, which the Duke seemed to not notice. Having done this sort of thing many times before, Peter was about to intercede. But then quite smoothly the other young king moved to Susan's side, the same one that the Duke had her hand.

"As much as I can appreciate formality, my good Duke, perhaps we should take this processional inside out of the heat, and refresh ourselves? _Your_ _Majesty_?" Caspian emphasized her title deliberately, catching and holding the Duke's eye pointed as he held out his arm to her. Susan barely contained her amusement as Hornabret was forced to drop her hand so that she could place it lightly on Caspian's arm. The lady Gerdi watched with calculating eyes, and a tiny cheer went up from some of the Narnian Creatures as the pair fell in next to the High King. Lucy was holding Peter's hand, but she was grinning knowingly at her sister and Caspian.

"That wasn't quite subtle," Peter smirked.

"He irritated me," Caspian said flatly.

"Try not to get me into another war," the High King commanded. "I'm still up to my eyeballs in your last one."

"Then tell him to keep his bloody hands to himself," Caspian muttered under his breath, using one of Edmund's favorite phrases. Susan actually laughed, and Lucy shared a look with Peter.

"He has no clue, does he?" she asked her brother.

"Give him another year or two and he will."

Caspian simply grunted and laid his other hand on top of Susan's, knowing exactly what they were talking about. The Queen just smiled.

* * *

The best way to hide is right out in the open. Slinking about is the perfect way to get yourself caught, or at least cause suspicions to be raised. So the two met in the most visible place they could think of, right outside the throne room. The one had already been waiting for a while, the other had been forced to attend the royals at the processional, and now looked hot and sunburned.

"Took you long enough," the first one said, arms crossed.

"Took _them_ long enough. Do you have it with you?"

The first smirked and openly handed the second a leather pouch, which the second held out for the world to see. He poked his nose in the bag, then grinned.

"I wouldn't spend too much time sniffing that, unless you want to see how well it works," the first suggested.

"Perhaps another time," the second laughed. He tucked the pouch into his belt. "I can't keep his Majesty waiting, can I?"

"Hmmmm…be careful not to give him too much. It could cause problems."

"Isn't that the point?" The second asked with an evil grin.

The first just shrugged. It was all the same to him. The boy wouldn't last long enough for it to matter anyways.

* * *

The day and part of the night passed by, and there was no sight of the Wolves.

"They're not coming back," Trumpkin said for the fiftieth time, poking at their small fire with a stick. "We're just wasting our time."

"They will return," Edmund assured the dwarf, although secretly he was beginning to wonder if his friend was right. If he was then they were back at the beginning, no closer to their prey than they had been two days ago. He was occupying himself by flipping a small dagger between his fingers.

"They gave their word," Reepicheep spoke up, as if that settled the matter.

"Great lot of good that is…" Trumpkin muttered, then froze as he felt hot breath across the back of his neck.

Maugrim snapped his massive jaws right beneath the dwarf's ear, making him jerk sideways in fright. The Wolf smirked as he sat down on his haunches in the place Trumpkin had just been.

"We have found the trail, pup king," he said, golden eyes gleaming as if amused. "You will not like where it leads."

"Not like we have a choice," Edmund shrugged. "Where are we headed to?"

"The Bad thing moves North… towards the mountains and the Castle of the White Queen." At this Edmund went still, his eyes locked on the Wolf's as if trying to find deceit there.

"They say those mountains are the home of hoards of Giants," Trumpkin told Edmund quietly. The Wolf watched as the king wearily stood up and tucked his dagger away.

"Then we shall have to move quietly and quickly," he said, kicking out the fire before taking up his horse's reins and mounting. He rode off towards the North, the Wolf slipping in and out of the trees as he ranged beside. Coming up more slowly behind them with Trumpkin (the dwarf had yet to get the handle of this riding thing), Reepicheep pursed his Mouse lips. Finally he nodded in satisfaction, whiskers twitching.

"This trip is most fortuitous," he decided. "For I always have wanted to slay a Giant."

The Dwarf knew better than to say a thing.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N Just a little fact, the Duke of Galma pressing for Caspian to marry his daughter is briefly mentioned in _The Voyage of the Dawn Treader_. I have company coming for a week, so expect updates to slow down during then.

**The Lost Chronicles of Narnia: The Beast of Witherby**

Chapter Eight

"Checkmate!"

"Oh, well done, Queen Lucy, well done!"

The problem with knowing that you are supposed to dislike someone, is that often you end up finding that you like them a lot. Lucy was currently having this problem, especially since finding that the lady Gerdi enjoyed planning chess just as much as she did. She also was just as bad at it as Lucy was, so for the first time since she could remember, Lu was winning without someone taking pity on her.

"You almost had my King with your Knight," Lucy said sympathetically. Gerdi gave a little laugh and picked up her silver knight (she had insisted Lucy play with the gold pieces).

"Truly, but as in real life, the Knight may be brave but can never outdo the King," she said sagely. From the corner, Susan tried not to let any expression show on her face, instead concentrating on the book in her hands.

"You've never met Reepicheep the Mouse, then," Lucy piped up. "I'd pit him against Peter any day."

"Your Majesty!" Gerdi grinned like Lucy had said something that she shouldn't have.

"I mean it, he's quite brave, and oh so cute. He's off with my brother right now on an adventure…" Lucy drifted off, becoming a bit sad. She was still very worried about Edmund and had yet to hear if he was alright. Gerdi reached out and took Lucy's hand, squeezing it. They had become rather close in the last few days.

"If King Edmund is as the histories say, then I am sure he will be just fine." Gerdi glanced over at Susan, who was watching, and gave her a tentative smile. It had become obvious since they had been here that the Lady Gerdi was a bit intimidated by Susan.

"The histories aren't always correct," Susan said simply, closing her book. "Often times they try to make things out to be more glorious than they were. But Edmund is quite capable."

"What is it that you are reading, your Majesty?" Gerdi asked curiously. Susan glanced at the cover, then blushed a bit.

"The Telmarine Histories," she muttered, turning away. Lucy looked to see if Gerdi was making fun of Su, but her face was smooth.

"If I may, your Majesty," Gerdi stood and moved towards Susan's chair. "The Telmarine Histories are much as you just described, full of glossed over information."

"You have read them?" Susan was a bit surprised. Considering the still ample amount of cleavage showing from the woman, and the way she stared unabashedly at Caspian every time he was in attendance, she had not thought her the scholarly type. The lady gave her a little smile.

"Yes. Perhaps you might try the writings of the Knights of Anvard? Their attention to detail is to be noted, and they are not inclined to set Archenland in a better light than they should. Their reputation of strength in arms has kept the Telmarine crown from pressuring their authors with any success." Gerdi curtseyed a bit after her words, seeming to hope that she had not come across as too forward.

Susan looked at her for a long moment, at the way she seemed so eager to be of help, and then something inside her gave way. Despite herself, she found that she was smiling at the daughter of the Duke.

"Is there any possibility that there would be a copy of those texts in the castle?" Susan asked, before grinning ruefully. "I've been away for a bit, you see, and I'm trying to get caught up."

Gerdi pursed her lips. "Considering the last several rulers here, prior to King Caspian of course, the free expression of thought and pursuit of knowledge has decreased greatly. In truth, there are many Telmarine commoners that live and die without ever having been able to read a word."

"That's awful!" Lucy declared. "Does Caspian know? I bet if he did he would do something about it."

"A king only knows what he sees and is told, Lu," Susan told her sister. "Caspian sees clearly when he is out amongst the people, but the council lords tie him up and try to influence him to suit their needs."

"Perhaps the king would enjoy the company of his people more than the council, if the right person suggested it," Gerdi said softly, looking at Susan carefully. There was a question there that Susan was not prepared to answer.

"Well, I'll suggest it," Lucy chirped. "He owes me a ride out in the orchards, anyway. Right after Edmund left, he promised."

Gerdi held Susan's gaze a touch longer, then lowered her eyes respectfully and turned back to Lucy.

"I would love a ride, Queen Lucy. Would you like to take one with me?"

"That would be lovely," Lucy smiled happily. "Su, are you coming?"

Oh, how badly she wanted to say no. But Gerdi was once more watching her, and there was no polite way she could refuse. So Susan followed them to the stables, where Peter and Caspian were both riding in, the Duke out of breath behind them.

"My dear daughter!" Hornabret called, waving her forward. Gerdi obediently went to him, but not before curtseying so deep to the kings that her knees almost brushed the ground. Susan glared at Peter, whose eyes were popping out, and then looked to Caspian. He merely smiled at her, having been watching her instead of Gerdi anyway.

"These young lads have quite the stamina," he puffed. "Showed me the city, they did. What a mess that fire was. Are you off to have a ride as well?"

"Yes, father."

His eyes gleamed as he looked from her to Caspian. "Well, don't be too long, daughter. I have arranged for you to have lunch with the King, and there is no excuse to be untidy." Gerdi looked rather embarrassed at that, and Lucy gave her a sympathetic smile.

Susan raised an eyebrow at Caspian, who rolled his eyes and slid off Destrier. Peter followed suit.

"That man is insufferable," Peter muttered under his breath to Susan. "Makes it sound like Caspian doesn't have a choice but to marry her. I wouldn't have been able to keep my mouth shut this long the way Caspian has."

"Nor have you," Caspian murmured, but he smiled at Susan. "Riding?"

"Hmmm…"

"Take Destrier," he encouraged her. "He's still fresh, and will take good care of you."

"Oh, Caspian, if he's already been ridden…"

"He will be fine," Caspian slid out of the saddle and went about adjusting the stirrups himself, as if he already knew exactly how long they should be. If he was aware of the Duke and his daughter following this exchange, Caspian ignored the man's irritated glares and her look of disappointment. In reality, Caspian was very much aware and was very much making a point. He might dine with Gerdi today, but his favor was not towards her. Understanding this, and unwilling to refuse him when it was so important to him, Susan just shared a look with Peter before allowing Caspian to help her mount. He held the horse steady for her the entire time the other girls were being mounted, even though there was no need and plenty of stable boys about. Then after seeing them off, the Kings returned to the palace, the Duke speaking very firmly to an irritated Caspian.

"Does your Majesty always ride the King's horse?" Lady Gerdi asked softly.

"Yes," Lucy grinned at her sister. "It's easier if Caspian just gives him to her, because she'll steal Destrier when he doesn't."

"And his majesty is not vexed?"

"Never," Lucy seemed smug. Gerdi gave Susan an apologetic look.

"Then I suppose that my father is about to make quite the fool out of me, isn't he?" Gerdi said resignedly. Susan watched her square her shoulders and turn back to conversation with Lucy. Despite herself, Susan couldn't help but truly liking the woman, despite the situation. Knowing that it wasn't her that was forcing this made Susan look at Gerdi in a different light. Her father however had a dangerous gleam in his eye that she had seen before, usually prior to trouble.

There was much to think about.

* * *

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Trumpkin asked Edmund out of the corner of his mouth. "These Telmarines still aren't used to us Narnians yet." The young king, now very dirty from several days on the road, nodded emphatically. The inn stood visible on the edge of town, the smells of roasting meat reaching even this far.

"It's a wonderful idea," he assured them. "Assuming you lot can control yourselves."

"We shall be on our best behavior, Sire," Reepicheep assured them.

The Wolf said nothing.

* * *

There was a quiet knock on the study door.

Caspian thought very hard about allowing the person entrance, and almost didn't reply. Then it occurred to him that the guards outside knew he didn't want to be disturbed, so it was likely one of the very few people he always allowed entrance no matter what. Despite the flash of oddly intense irritation at the interruption, he decided to be more genial than he was feeling.

"Come in," he called, dipping his quill back in a tiny silver pot of ink. The person entered and closed the door softly behind them. Caspian rose out of his seat, ink and quill forgotten momentarily.

"Your Majesty," Queen Susan said respectfully, dipping in a very slight curtsey. It obviously took Caspian off guard, she had never been so formal, and he wondered if perhaps she was vexed with him. They had never really spoken of their growing relationship, and they certainly hadn't defined it as anything formal. Not that he wouldn't be thrilled to be formally courting the queen, he just hadn't… well to be honest, he had been afraid to ask. What if she declined? Then he would be forced to take a step back and not allow himself the luxury of keeping her company so much.

"My queen," Caspian replied, bowing much deeper than was necessary, and stressing the syllables. Surely she was not angry, he thought drolly. What could she be angry about? He had been too forward the other night, he was still kicking himself for it, to the point that she had quite literally run from his arms. He had been embarrassingly possessive at the processional, and now that blasted Duke was forcing Gerdi at him every second that he could. What was there possibly for the queen to be displeased with, indeed?

"Is your Majesty busy?" Susan asked, exceedingly politely. "Or should I come back later?" It unnerved him completely.

"I am never too busy for you, my lady," Caspian told her softly. In reality there was a stack of petitions in front of him that needed to be reviewed personally, but they could… no they _would_ wait.

Susan made a slight humming noise, and she approached his desk leisurely. Caspian watched her as he sat back down, eyes drifting unconsciously. She looked beautiful tonight, more so then normal. Her hair had been left down, which he always preferred, falling in soft curls. She wore the light blue dress she had on the day Aslan had wanted to send them home, although for the first time, she had donned a silver circlet about her brow. Caspian had never seen any of them wear their crowns, as though they were so secure in their positions that there needn't be a reminder of their authority. This wasn't a formal crown, but on her it was clear enough. Odd that tonight she would choose to do so before just him.

"What are you doing?" she asked curiously, glancing at the papers on his desk.

"Petitions," Caspian said with a slight groan. "I believe that not a single one was read while my uncle ruled here. His legacy of discontent seems to never stop."

"It is the duty of the kings and queens of Narnia to listen to their subjects, and to do what is best for them," Susan said softly. She continued walking slowly, circling behind his desk and running one hand along the bookshelves. Caspian watched her disappear behind him, and he craned his head to keep her in his sight.

"Aye," he acknowledged.

"Even when what is best for them is not what is best for you," she added, a touch sadly, tracing the spine of an ancient lore book. Caspian wondered if she realized how many stories it contained of her and her legendary family. Something obviously was bothering her.

"Your Majesty is many things," Caspian told her simply. "But cryptic is not usually one of them."

Susan sighed and leaned into the shelves, but said nothing. Caspian got up and almost walked to her, then thought better of it. After the other night, he needed to remember his restraint, and that was exceedingly difficult when it was so easy to just pull her into his arms. So Caspian sat on the edge of his desk, close enough that he was approachable, should she choose to approach him.

"What's wrong, my queen?" he asked her gently. "Something troubles you."

"Are you fond of her?" Susan asked point blank, taking him momentarily by surprise.

"Fond of who?" he asked, confused, then at the twisting of her mouth, he understood. "The Lady Gerdi?"

"Yes."

He almost flat out denied any affection, but then thought of a different approach, one that would help him understand her better.

"Have I given your Majesty any cause to think that?" he responded, tilting his head. Susan blushed slightly.

"Well… no. But you can't deny that she would make you a good match." Whether Susan liked it or not, it was true. The Duke's daughter was capable and kind, as any future queen should be.

"Have I given your Majesty any reason to think that my affections lay any place other than in your own direction?" he pressed seriously. Because if he had, it certainly hadn't been intentionally.

"No," Susan admitted, then she seemed to slump. "You make me sound like a silly girl, asking. But you're not exactly an open book," she reminded him. Caspian looked at her for a long time before answering, as if he needed to make sure he worded this just right.

"It is a difficult thing trying to understand my own desires," Caspian said quietly. "Because what I wanted and what I was expected to have were never the same. A year ago it would never have occurred to me that there would be more to it then taking the bride selected for me. A year ago I would have simply accepted what the council wanted and assumed that was my responsibility as king or future king."

Susan looked at him with an almost hurt expression, and he wanted to go to her. He did not.

"But it is not a year ago, and I find that point of view has changed," he added.

"And now?"

"Now I am able to understand that I am allowed to choose what I want for myself, whether or not the council or the High King or even my dear Queen agrees." Caspian looked down briefly, then back up. "You act as if you think I _should_ prefer her."

Susan stared at her feet for awhile before turning back to him with slightly glistening eyes.

"Yes, Caspian. Maybe you should. I think that Galma is dangerous and if he knows his grandchildren will sit on the throne, he will have no need to try and take it from you. That is what I _think_." Susan bit her bottom lip and continued on bravely. "I think that a lot of people died to get you this throne, and taking care of the surviving Narnians, Telmarine or Old, should be your top priority. Protecting them should be your top priority. If the match is good for them, then it is something that you need to consider."

Caspian's eyes were dark and unreadable. "Aye, I will consider it," he told her seriously. Susan's heart sank in her chest, but she nodded. That was what she had come here to say.

"Alright, I should probably go…" Susan took a step or two closer to him, intending on walking out.

"I have considered it." Caspian's words stopped her. And with that he closed the distance between them and took her face in his battle toughened hands, looking down at her. "And I will consider it no longer, _my queen_."

"You say that as if I am," Susan whispered, finding that her heart was racing at his closeness. He always smelled of leather and spice, of work and earth, of being _male_. She was completely distracted by it.

"In my heart you always have been," he told her in a low, rough voice. "And if you care for me at all, do not ask me to consider another again."

"Caspian…" Susan pulled away from him, even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. She was pacing unhappily, and didn't realize that she was wringing her hands. "You just don't understand! Denying her could lead us all into another war, should Galma decide they have been offended. If that man is looking for a way into Narnia, which he seems to be, then he will take complete advantage of this. You know we are weakened right now. I've seen wars for less. I've been the _cause_ of wars for less! It's just not wise not to even consider--"

"I want only you."

Susan looked up at him in shock. Caspian himself seemed a bit surprised with his forwardness, and then his expression turned defensive. He turned around and sat back down in his chair, returning to his paperwork.

"You cannot make me take another, and not even a Queen of Narnia can make me feel that which I do not," he told her flatly, closing himself off as quickly as he had opened himself up to her. A touch bitterly, he added, "Just as I cannot do the same to you."

Susan opened her mouth to say something, then she closed it. She didn't know how to approach his rapidly shifting mood. It wasn't like Caspian at all.

"That's not fair," she told him, once more sounding hurt.

"And deciding that I should suffer…_that_…is?" Caspian returned harshly. Then as quickly as the anger came, it was gone. He shook his head, rubbing his temples. "I am sorry, my queen. I do not know why I am reacting this way."

Susan didn't say anything for a long moment, then she moved to stand behind him. Susan placed her hands on his broad shoulders. She could feel the tension in them even through his white leather jerkin. Sighing, she rubbed the base of his neck soothingly.

"You are over stressed," Susan whispered. "These last few months have been hard on you."

Caspian didn't reply, but he didn't pull away. After a while, the movements of her hands on his neck seemed to start working, and the tanned king slumped a bit in his chair. He tilted his side to side, and his neck gave a resounding crack.

"Oww," Susan murmured, but Caspian just shifted back more into the rub. She didn't know it but he was enjoying this very much. It was rare that she touched him, and certainly never for long times like this.

"That feels good," he finally admitted, rolling his head back so he could look up at her. "My lady's hands are soothing."

"Usually you don't seem as if you need soothing," Susan said, kind of curious. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I suppose I am feeling overwhelmed," Caspian said softly, closing his eyes. "It is as if I am juggling too many wooden sticks, that I will drop them if I make a single mistake. That I will lead my kingdom into crisis if I do."

"It often feels like that when things are bad," Susan reassured him, kneading sore muscles along his shoulders. "But they won't always be this difficult. Combining two warring nations into one isn't easy, but you are doing it. And my siblings and I are here, whenever you need us."

"If this is the treatment I get then I shall more regularly admit it when the need arises," he opened his eyes and winked at her, a tiny grin touching his mouth. Susan smiled back, and then thought about kissing him. He certainly looked as if he was thinking the same. There was a polite knock on the door, and without waiting for an answer, the Lord Scythley stepped in.

"My King I have need to speak to you, immediately."

"Not now, my Lord," Susan spoke before Caspian did, in a crisp authoritative voice. She had felt his shoulders stiffen up once more just at the man's voice, and for some reason she was feeling protective. The Telmarine noble gave her an offended look.

"With all due respect, you Majesty--" Scythley started, but Susan cut him off, calling in a louder tone.

"Lord Tenneth?" The general appeared immediately. She smiled at him thankfully. "Please attend to the lord. Should his situation be dire, then have it brought to the High King's attention. Also have the King's staff alerted, and have a bath drawn for his Majesty. He will dine alone in his rooms tonight."

"Yes, my queen," Lord Tenneth bowed and marched up to Scythley, taking his arm. The Telmarine jerked it away and gave Susan a look that spoke volumes of his ill feelings towards her, but at the general's fierce expression, he had no choice but to leave. When he was gone, and the door was closed once more, Caspian turned around and put his hands about Susan's waist.

"You are a true Queen," he said softly, wondering how she instinctively knew he wanted to be left alone tonight. Well, maybe not _completely_ alone. She just shrugged.

"I've had a lot of practice."

"Will you join me?" he asked her shyly, seeming again the Caspian she knew. Relieved, Susan gave him a tiny smile.

"For your bath? Your _Majesty_!" she affected scandal and for a moment he turned furiously red in embarrassment. Then he grinned and pulled her forward, wrapping his arms around her.

"Aye. There is room for two!" Caspian stood up and picked her up around the waist, turning her about. Susan squealed, slapping his arms indignantly. Caspian set her down and smiled down at her.

"What is this with you tonight?" Susan asked, laughing and blushing at the same time. Caspian just shrugged.

"Perhaps I am in need of more relaxation," he admitted. Susan hugged him tightly, and Caspian allowed himself to rest his chin on her shoulder. It was moments like this with her, Caspian thought privately, that kept him from ever wanting to think of taking another as wife. Not that he was ready to take _anyone_ as a wife, but still… He did care for her so deeply.

"I am glad you remained," he told her simply. She didn't reply, but she held on to him tighter.

Caspian wondered why she was trembling. Perhaps she was thinking about Edmund.

* * *

"Bloody _hell_!" Edmund gasped, throwing a kick into the nearest brigand's chest and knocking him back. He was immediately spun around by a heavy hand, and punched square in the jaw.

"My… apologies… Sire," Reepicheep gasped out each word as he bounced from one table to another, tiny blade flashing. "Had I known this lot was this unsavory, I would have refrained from calling out that first one. We don't have time for this."

A chair came swinging at Edmund, narrowly missing his head as he was abruptly jerked downwards. Trumpkin shot the Mouse a dirty look as he released the king's tunic.

"You think?" the Dwarf muttered. "You couldn't have just gotten another feather some other time?"

"I'm… _slash_… rather fond… take that Foul Knave!... of this one. Ha!!"

"Oh, bloody hell," Edmund repeated exasperatedly as the inn room door opened and more men came pouring in. Then he jumped to his feet, leapt upon the nearest table and threw himself at the nearest pair, taking all three of them to the floor in a pile of elbows and fists.

Sitting next to the fire nearby, the Wolf failed to be impressed with his provided meal. Why must everything be burnt and ruined before it was served to this lot? Ignoring the commotion, Maugrim slipped out the still open door and headed off to hunt for something worth eating.

* * *

The High King turned the corner, wondering for a moment where everyone had gotten off to. The clomping feet of Ironhoof slightly behind him failed to cover the indignant growls coming from the next hall over, and Peter peered that way curiously. The Lord Tenneth had the Lord Scythley by the shoulder and was propelling him away from the King's study. Peter smirked to himself. Well, that explained where two of them were. These days Susan and Caspian were glued at the hip. Peter could only recall his sister having spent this kind of time with one other, although that hadn't ended well for anyone involved (And while it is a very interesting tale, it isn't relevant to this story).

"Get your hands off me!" Scythley was snapping, and Tenneth looked about as happy as Peter had ever seen him as he hauled the complaining Lord the other direction. Peter laughed outright then stepped out a side exit, into one of the many gardens beneath the battlements.

It was nearly cost him his life.

Instinct alone saved the High King from the first one. He had been shot at many times in his multiple lives. So tucked away in some tiny place in his mind was the constant remembrance of the buzz of a crossbow bolt, headed towards you. That buzz was what made Peter duck and fall forward, the bolt slamming into an ornate crystal statue behind where his head had been. The sound of shattering crystal covered the next two buzzing, and as glittering shards fell about across Peter's shoulders and back, Ironhoof threw himself over his King.

Peter heard the heavy wet thump that signals a bolt has found its mark, and the centaur grunted painfully. A second one caused Ironhoof to stumble and almost go down. Barely keeping himself from crushing Peter, Ironhoof roared out in fury.

"Protect the King!"

There was a flurry of movement, in which Peter found himself suddenly covered on every side by all sorts of Creatures. In fact, it took him a moment to realize that the heavy weight on top of his head was a Mouse, flattened over his hair, determined to shield the High King from harm.

"I'm alright," Peter tried to assure them, attempting to rise to his feet. The amount of Creatures pressing close made it hard. "Please, I'm fine. Ironhoof, are you alright?"

The Centaur was bleeding heavily from his lower shoulder (the Horse part, although if you say it like that in front of a Centaur, I would not stay around long) and his back left hip, but he looked more angry then in pain.

"Find the bowmen!" Ironhoof commanded, pointing out at the battlements above them. There was a dark bit of cloak that disappeared from view, and at once the fastest of the Animals leapt towards the walls. Unfortunately the placement of the bowmen had been deliberate. It took even the lightning quick great Cats a few precious moments to top the battlements, and there were too many separate staircases leading down into the interior of the castle. The assailants could have gone down any one. Still they tried, sleek muscles flexing as they dug claws into the stone walls, leaping up and over, disappearing out of sight.

Knowing that it was pointless, Peter turned his attention to Ironhoof.

"You saved my neck there, friend," he told Ironhoof quietly, tearing off his velvet doublet and balling it up. A dwarf had already pulled both bolts, and the shoulder wound was bleeding quite badly. Peter pressed the cloth hard to the Centaur's shoulder, trying to slow the flow of blood.

"If my King had not moved first, there would have been no neck to save," Ironhoof grunted. The Centaur looked distressed. "Now we know who the original target was the last time."

"Su." Peter's voice dropped unhappily. Then he glanced at the surrounding Narnians. "Will someone please find my sisters and make sure they are alright? Don't say anything yet, just… just make sure they are alright."

"Do you want us to inform King Caspian, Sire?" the Mouse on the top of his head asked. Peter shook his head, at which point the Mouse realized perhaps it was time to be getting down. As far as Peter could tell there were only Old Narnians that had witnessed it.

"No, not yet," Peter decided. "Caspian has enough to deal with. Come on, we need to get Ironhoof to a healer."

They took the back halls. Should have any Telmarine seen the High King of the Narnians walking with his finery pressed to a wounded Centaur, only in his linen shirt and leather trousers, they would have stared in wonder. Being that only Old Narnians saw it, there was only renewed faith in their beloved King.

* * *

Lucy lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling above her head. The golden flickering of lamps cast shadows about the room, playing over the figure of her sleeping sister. They kept the windows tightly sealed now, with a rather substantial dresser blocking them, but it still didn't make Lucy feel completely comfortable. The light was supposed to help, but looking at them too long could play with a young girl's imagination just as much as the darkness could. Every bend and dip could be something else flitting around in the room than just normal shadows, and Lucy was as aware as anyone could be that in Narnia, the unexpected was to be expected.

Sometimes it was hard being a little girl that knew too much.

Susan didn't snore, but every so often she would mutter in her sleep, tossing about. The eldest queen had been pensive lately, and Lucy had her secret inkling why. Queen Susan of Old had been renowned for her gentleness, but having come back through the wardrobe had been a painful experience for her. Unlike Lucy, she had not really thought they were going to get back to Narnia, and when they had, she had told her sister that she would enjoy it while it lasted. She had been sure it wouldn't. And now they were still here, even after saying their goodbyes, and Susan was scared that any moment they would be forced to leave again. Lucy felt for Susan, because it must be hard wanting to be somewhere so badly and trying to keep yourself distant from the possible hurt. Plus with the Telmarine King slowly chipping away at her toughened exterior, Susan was fighting doubly hard to remain apart, making her a harder queen than she had been in the golden age. Out of all of them, she had the most to lose.

Lucy thought about waking her, then decided against it. Su had spent a lot of her time and energy supporting Caspian lately, talking him through his worries late into the night (Peter thought they had stopped, but they hadn't), and she needed the extra sleep. Peter was bound to be in bed by now, and Edmund… Lucy's heart gave a little leap. She missed him the most, even if he was the biggest tease to her. Edmund always managed to make things feel right, even when they were wrong, and it hurt when he was gone.

"Susan?" Lucy felt like she needed to say it, even though her sister was asleep. "I'm going to go for a glass of milk, I can't sleep."

"You're being unreasonable," Susan muttered, making Lucy pause as she got out of bed and wrapped a robe about her nightdress.

"What do you mean?" Lucy was confused.

"The bath is much too small, Caspian…" Susan rolled over and drifted back into dreams.

Lucy stifled her giggle, thinking that she must remember that particular phrase coming from Su's mouth, just in case need arose. But as she slipped out of their bedchambers, Lucy decided that perhaps she would see if Caspian was still up. The young king never slept more than a couple hours a night, if at all, and had been that way since they had met him in the forest. She wondered how much of that was Caspian, and how much was the stress of leading men. Peter had done much the same when they had first ruled Narnia, it had taken him a good year or two to come out of it, and those had been better times.

A Leopard was crouched outside in the sitting room, and he blinked at her as she shut the door quietly behind her. They had taken to posting guards at night that could both hear and smell extremely well, and the Cat had known she was getting out of bed before she had finished doing it.

"I'm going to the kitchens," she told the Leopard, bobbing a bit of a curtsey. "Would you like to come too?"

He silently rose to his feet and padded with her towards the exterior door. As they left, a second Cat, this one a beautiful Cheetah, slipped inside and placed herself where the Leopard had been. Lucy simply loved the Narnian Cats. They were so beautiful and powerful, and they always reminded her of Aslan. She refrained herself from stroking the Leopards soft fur as they walked down the hallways towards the kitchen, and although she desperately wanted to talk to him, she knew that he was much more intent on their surroundings than anything she might have to say. A nice woman in the kitchens helped her get the milk, and keeping the large cup tightly held in her little hands, Lucy took the long way back to her rooms.

As she had half expected, there was a dim light coming from beneath the doors of the throne room, and one side of the heavy entrance was propped open just slightly. Lucy poked her nose around the corner to see if it was Caspian.

"I think that your Majesty is not thinking clearly," a deep voice said from one of the side chairs. It was familiar, but without seeing his face, Lucy couldn't place it.

"Then you tell me, my lord, what do you think is to be done?" Caspian's voice was harsh, and he was pacing the room, every once in a while crossing into her line of sight then disappearing again.

"The people do not understand having this many monarchs. It undermines your authority and makes the throne look weak."

"This throne is weak!" Caspian growled, and Lucy flinched back a bit at his tone. "A millennia of governing based on fear, not worthiness. Despite my tutor's good intentions, I hold my power because of winning a war, not because I am the rightful king. Blood is on my hands, and each day I wonder how much more blood will be shed."

"You believe the rightful king to be Peter Pevensie?"

Caspian let out a bitter laugh.

"And if I do?"

"Then you are abandoning your people to the governing of strangers," the other man spoke in a hypnotic tone, drawing Lucy in with his words. "Strangers that rule by witchcraft and strange powers over the forests."

"That is not true," Caspian retorted. "There is no witchcraft, and they are far from strangers."

"Trees that come alive and hurl your own soldiers, your own subjects, hundreds of feet to their deaths are not to be considered witchcraft?"

"The Trees do as they chose, as they are living and breathing things of Narnia." The explanation sounded hollow, as if Caspian himself had trouble buying it. The unknown lord laughed.

"You have spent too much time with these barbarian monarchs. Their queen has whispered too many sweet words in your ear, my young king."

"Be careful what you are implying, my lord," Caspian said, sounding very dangerous.

"I thought my Majesty made it clear that no one need fear speaking their mind in front of him. Have I misunderstood?"

"Speak your mind, but be clear on one thing. I will not suffer insult towards her Majesty."

The lord was quiet for a moment, then his voice was once more that soothing tone.

"His Majesty has never been in love before, and the Narnian queen is quite beautiful," he said to Caspian. "There is no man here that denies the attraction, nor would not act the same in your stead. But you are the King, sire, and it is up to your advisors to tell you things that you might not want to hear, things that others might be keeping from you."

"What do you mean?" Caspian sounded suspicious. Lucy strained her ears, trying to hear better as the lord started speaking quieter.

"How much of the history books have you read, Caspian?"

"Enough. Why?"

"Have you read of these kings and queens?"

"… Yes."

"The years of their rule is documented well, if you have one of the books previously banished. They tell of many things, but are very clear. Do you recall how many suitors came to see the Queen? Do you remember how many she refused?" Caspian didn't speak, so he continued smoothly. "She refused them all, sire. Do you know how many wars were caused by her refusals? At least seven battles where blood was shed were deemed caused by scorned suitors. She refused men much more powerful than the King of the Telmarines, men that had the power to conquer Narnia entirely."

"Why do you say these things to me?" Caspian was still suspicious, but his voice had that tone it got when he was unsure of himself.

"Because my king, you must understand. While you may love Queen Susan with every breath that you take, it is _known historical fact_ that she has never chosen a suitor, and has never taken her country's safety into account in her decisions. Her brother has utmost control of Narnia, including yourself, sire, but only because you allow it. And this is the woman that daily advises you, and usually not to the agreement of the great council."

"She helps me to be a better king," Caspian held fast, but the lord just spoke slowly, as if to one that doesn't understand he has been misled.

"She helps you to be a better king for _her_ people, not for yours. She is a Narnian, not a Telmarine, and therefore her goals are different than yours. We fear that she is using her charms to control you."

"You go too far," Caspian's voice was trembling in anger. Lucy could see the lord's legs as he leaned in. A bit more and she could see his face.

"Did you not say yourself in front of the council that you would not refuse her anything?"

"…Aye. But I refuse to accept that she is against us, or that any of them are. They are my friends."

"My king is still young and naïve. It is easy to trust the beautiful flower in your bed, until it becomes a serpent that strikes. Do not let your kingdom fall to its knees because you seek to get between hers."

"**Enough**!" Caspian's roar made Lucy jerk back, and she saw the light reflect off his sword as he stepped forward and grabbed the lord, throwing him back across his seat, the blade to his throat. "Enough, I will not listen to this anymore! And so you know, the next ill word you speak of her shall be your last." Wide eyed, Lucy watched Caspian's arm quiver as he fought to hold back his strike.

"I have said all I needed to say, your Majesty," he said, sounding not at all worried. "As my King, I trust in your leadership. You will make the wisest decisions when it comes to ruling your people."

Lucy could tell how upset Caspian was, finally seeing his face for the first time. He was pale, and seemed to be sweating as if fevered. She was about to march in and tell that lord that he was all wrong about Susan and the rest of them, but the Cat slipped in front of her.

"No, my Queen," he rumbled almost silently, so that she was the only one to hear. "There is something amiss in that room. It smells wrong. We must leave."

"But-"

"Hurry!" The Leopard almost knocked her over, pushing her back. "Climb on me!"

She did and almost lost her milk as the Cat leapt away, around the corner. But there he paused, and waited, as if he too wanted to know. They peered around the corner, but all they saw was a figure disappearing down the hall the other way, wrapped up tightly in a non-descript cloak.

"I must see if Caspian is alright," Lucy whispered to the Leopard. He growled, although not at her, his much sharper ears straining.

"No, my Queen," he replied, sounding worried. "The King is in a rage." Sure enough, even her ears could make out the sounds of shattering glass and a fist on wood. Deciding for itself, the Leopard turned and quickly trotted down the halls, little Lucy holding on tightly and trying not to spill her milk onto his back. He looked relieved when they finally made it back to the Queens' rooms, and the other Narnians.

A bit shakily, Lucy climbed off the Leopard and thanked him, before returning to her bedroom. The opening of the door woke Susan (Lucy had forgotten in her distraction to be quiet), and the elder queen sat up in bed, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"Lu? Is that you? Are you alright?" Susan asked worriedly. Lucy almost spilled right then and there. But knowing that Susan would go to Caspian immediately, and his current mood, Lucy decided to say nothing for now.

"I'm fine. I just wanted some milk."

"Alright," Susan lay back down and curled up beneath her blankets, admonishing sleepily. "Be quieter next time. I was having a wonderful dream, though I don't remember it now."

This time Lucy didn't giggle at all.


	9. Chapter 9

**The Lost Chronicles of Narnia: The Beast of Witherby**

Chapter Nine

The grounds were stupendous.

The castle and city were a sea of color, not just for the tournament, but for the celebration that was to follow afterwards. The preparations had taken the better part of a week, and it showed in the meticulous detail. Even though Peter had privately wondered if it was a good idea to spend so much energy and money on such a venture, the air of excitement in the palace and especially the city made it seem worth it. By the day of the festivities, even the High King was a bit giddy with anticipation. That might have to do with the fact that both him and Caspian would be participating in the jousting, much to Lucy's excitement. He had announced it at breakfast that morning, after having crept away for some discreet practice in the days before. Although Peter found that he was rusty, he figured he wouldn't make _too_ much of a fool of himself. That was what he was trying to explain to Susan at breakfast, who seemed to not agree.

"Come on Su, I'm not that bad," Peter told her, sounding injured. Susan just grinned at him.

"Don't you remember the last tournament?" she reminded him. "You couldn't stand up for a week, until we finally made you take some of Lucy's cordial."

Lucy was giggling as she munched on a piece of toast. "Your whole backside was black and blue," the youngest queen added. "And Edmund had to help you get to and from the loo?"

"Ha ha," Peter grumped. Then he straightened proudly. "Just watch you two, Caspian and I are going to show what real kings are made of!" he declared.

"Speaking of which," Lucy was looking around. "Where is Caspian this morning?"

"I saw him in the hall outside his study," Susan said, a tiny frown crossing her face. "He seemed a bit off, but he said he'd be here for breakfast."

"As I said, and as I am, dear lady," came a jovial voice from the doorway. Susan looked behind her, and then smiled at the entering king. Caspian fairly leapt into his seat, reaching for some toast enthusiastically, ignoring how Susan's smile quickly faded into concern.

"Although, I do not know what you mean by off," he added around his food. "I feel quite good this morning. Wonderful in fact!"

The thing was, he didn't look wonderful. He looked pale… way too pale. And there was a light sheen of sweat across his brow that he seemed oblivious to.

"Caspian, are you feeling alright?" Peter asked worriedly. Caspian gave him a strange look, and then shoved the rest of his food in his mouth. After swallowing he drained his glass of water in one deep drink, before pouring himself a second and draining that too.

"I am fine," Caspian declared, pouring now a third glass. Lucy thought she saw his hand trembling a bit. "Truly. However I cannot wait until this morning's festivities. Then we shall show the kingdom what true kings are made of, Peter!"

The High King chuckled, shooting an amused look at his sisters. "That's what I was telling them, but they didn't believe me."

"You have doubt, my queen?" Caspian asked Susan, grinning himself and taking up her hand on the spur of the moment. He kissed it lightly. "Then I shall win this tournament for you, and you will never have reason to doubt me again."

"But where does that leave Peter?" Susan chuckled, thinking that Caspian's fingers were too cold.

"Once more on his backside," Lucy piped up, causing Peter's eyes to widen.

"Hey!" he cried indignantly, and then started tickling Lu, chasing her about the room. While they were preoccupied, Susan turned back to Caspian.

"Are you sure you are alright?" she asked quietly, thinking that he still had her hand, and that it was odd of him to initiate this much contact in front of others. "You look as if you are fevered."

"Aye, my queen," Caspian whispered back, an odd gleam to his eyes. "I am fevered…"

Susan was taken aback by the way he was staring at her for a second, but then couldn't think about it because she had been swept out of her seat. Caspian put his arms about her and spun her in a quick circle, before setting her down again. He kissed her hand respectfully, once more the gentleman she knew.

"I shall win this tournament for you," he told her with a grin, stepping back and grabbing a hold of Peter companionably. "Or I shall make a fool of myself trying." Peter laughed and threw his arm around Caspian's shoulders.

"Not if I win the tournament for Lucy," Peter declared, dragging Caspian to the side a step. "Su's had enough tourneys tucked under her belt."

"Then she shall just have to find room for one more!" Caspian declared. It started a playful wrestling match between the two monarchs, and Susan couldn't help but laugh as they drug each other out the door.

"See you later, girls!" Peter called from his headlock, with Caspian grinning once more at Susan before they disappeared. The eldest queen shook her head, unable to keep the smile from her face.

"Who do you think will win?" Lucy asked as they made their way from the breakfast room, back to get ready for the event. A touch of a sad look reached Susan's eyes.

"I don't know, but they are lucky Edmund's not here. He would have beaten them both soundly."

"Do you think he is okay?" Lucy asked in a small voice. "I feel bad that we are having such fun and he is off on an adventure all alone."

"He is with Trumpkin," Susan joked. "How can there be more fun than that?"

"Hey!" Lucy indignantly launched into an explanation of just how fun the Dwarf could be, forgetting momentarily her worries for Edmund. That had been the point.

* * *

If one has never jousted, then one has never strapped metal to every part of their body and attempted to drag themselves to the top of a very tall animal. Thankfully, if you are a King of Narnia, then you simply have your closest friendly giant grab you up beneath the arms and plop you down on your horse without all of that uncomfortable grunting and groaning and pulling. Had anyone ever thought to ask the horses their opinions, they would have said that they prefer this very much over the other way. Of course, if they had been able to speak, they would have been Horses, and therefore wouldn't have been doing something as undignified as jousting in the first place. That being said, Caspian and Peter were the first to mount, and the only ones that didn't look pained at the completion of it.

"You'd think in thirteen hundred years that they would have found a better way of doing that," Peter murmured to Caspian, watching a particularly unlucky fellow slip up and land heavily on his backside. His squire hustled around, puffing and panting as he tried to drag the unfortunate knight to his feet.

"It is as if they had never heard of a giant at all," Caspian replied, smirking. "How plebeian."

Peter gave Caspian a piercing look when he realized the other king wasn't joking.

"You're in an odd humor today," Peter noted. Caspian grunted, but his eyes shone as he watched their competition. Even beneath all that armor, Peter could see that Caspian was wound tight as a string, his muscles tensed so hard that the tendons along his neck were bulging.

"I am ready to be on with it," Caspian replied, shifting Destrier's reins to his other hand. "All this waiting is maddening." Peter raised an eyebrow. Impatience from his friend was rare, and only in matters of utmost importance. This was not his usual demeanor.

"Where are the queens? Peter?"

The High King realized that Caspian was repeating himself. Peter shrugged.

"You know Su. She'll take forever to get down here," he joked in a mock mournful tone. "She's so practical when we're at war, but the rest of the time, she's as silly as any other girl."

"Out of our friendship, I will ignore that you spoke of the Queen that way," Caspian literally growled, swinging his mount sideways so he was facing Peter. "I will not do so again."

Peter was floored, and stared at him for a moment, speechless. He often teased his sisters in front of Caspian, but it never had been an issue until now. Biting back an angry retort, Peter urged his horse a step forward.

"You are acting differently than normal, Caspian," Peter said to his friend in a low voice, intending no others to hear. It didn't stop eyes from turning their way. "Are you _sure_ you're okay?"

"I do not like my queen being spoken ill of, not even by the High King," Caspian retorted in an overly loud voice. More eyes focused on them. This time Peter almost choked on his reply, and it was only the realization that Caspian's arms were trembling and his face was now drenched with sweat that held his tongue.

"I apologize if I offended. You know I love Su," Peter forced out, deciding that if Caspian was ill enough to be acting this way, then he probably wasn't aware of his own tone. "However, I would remind the King of Narnia that in public, even a King must be respectful to those of rank." He left the 'higher rank' left unsaid.

Caspian glared, and then seemed to calm down, shifting his horse sideways. For a moment his head bent, and he stared at his hands. "Perhaps I am not myself as you say," he murmured, and Peter was about to suggest that perhaps Caspian not ride today. But then the trumpets sounded, their ringing signaling the approach of royalty. At that, two men appeared and handed each King a ceremonial lance, much finer than the ones they would be using earlier.

"Her Royal Majesty, Queen Lucy the Valiant!" Upon the platform where the nobles would watch the games, little Lucy stepped up. The crowds cheered, although the Narnians with more enthusiasm then the Telmarines. They still weren't sure what to make of their young queen.

"The Duke of Galma and his daughter, the Lady Gerdi!" The pair followed, with Gerdi on her father's arm. Hornabret was looking rather pleased, perhaps because this tournament was ostensibly in his honor. Gerdi looked quite fetching, although her orange dress and green hat were not quite Peter's taste.

"She looks like a pumpkin," Caspian muttered, making Peter snort and bite back a laugh.

"Be nice, your Majesty," Peter murmured back.

"Her Royal Majesty, Queen Susan the Gentle!"

This time the cheers from the Narnians were joined in by more cheers from the Telmarines. They knew as little about Susan as they did Lucy, but the queen that stepped up on the platform looked everything a queen should: young, beautiful, and very regal. The general was escorting her and helped her sit down as the cheering gradually died down.

"The people love her," Caspian said, watching the queen's every move. The High King said nothing, wondering if Caspian was getting the people confused with himself. The zealous look in his eyes was worrying Peter.

"Caspian…" Peter started, but the king had already spurred forward his horse, and Peter, knowing the ceremony, was forced to do the same. He caught up with Destrier and pushed his own charger a touch ahead of Caspian's mount, as rank dictated. Side by side the two Kings rode to the platform. Lucy was grinning and clapping her hands when Peter reined in before her.

"My dear Queen Sister," Peter said grandly so that everyone could hear, giving Lucy a little wink. "May I do the honor of carrying your colors today?" He tilted his lance so that the tip of it rested above the railing before her. Lucy stood up and bobbed a curtsey, smiling huge. She had always loved these sports, especially when her brothers competed in them.

"Silly, they're your colors too," she laughed, but she pulled out a long red ribbon, embroidered with a golden lion, and tied it to the tip of Peter's lance. The Narnians cheered, their love of their Kings and Queens of Old having never faded throughout the centuries, Peter grinned as he turned about, raising his lance vertical beside him. Caspian, having waited for Peter to step back, immediately rode Destrier to the rail before Susan.

"My queen," he said, eyes drinking her in. "May I have the honor of carrying your colors this day?" Susan shifted uncomfortably for a moment, aware of the humiliated flush on Gerdi's face and the open anger of Hornabret's. But Caspian seemed oblivious and very intent on watching her. Finally Susan stood and curtseyed acceptance, with the slowness and slight downward dip that befitted one of her station to one of his. Beneath the cheering of the crowds as she tied her own ribbon to his lance, Susan leaned forward.

"Caspian, you look ill," she told him worriedly. "Should you ride?" But the young king raised his lance vertical and turned Destrier sideways. With a show of strength (for even these ceremonial lances are quite heavy!), Caspian stood in his stirrups so that he was almost at level with Susan. Surprising her by taking her hand, he brushed a kiss across it and spoke so everyone could hear.

"I should ride because I will win this tournament for you, my queen," he declared loudly. Then letting her hand go, he turned and faced the row of competing knights. "And a title of Lord in this realm for any man that downs me today! For if I ride for the Queen, it will be against the most motivated of opponents!"

A roar went through the gathered men and Creatures, for Caspian had just set the stakes high. There would be no one that would pull back, unwilling to hurt the King of Narnia. Peter rolled his eyes as the two of them trotted back towards the sidelines. A third knight headed to the platform, to ask favor of Gerdi, but the Kings were not paying attention.

"You do know that you're going to get destroyed now," Peter mentioned, to which Caspian seemed perversely pleased.

"They will try," was all he said.

Peter groaned and then readied himself to probably end up on his backside.

* * *

"You are not competing today, my Lord?" Susan asked Tenneth curiously as she and her sister made their way back to their seats, the Lady Gerdi in tow. "I have been told that you are quite the formidable opponent."

The general merely grunted at the compliment, but by the look in his eyes one could tell he was pleased. "My duty to her Majesty is more important," he replied, sounding a bit stiff. Susan laid a hand on his offered arm.

"I think my Majesty can survive while you enjoy yourself for once, Tenneth." A smile played about her lips as she sat down and arranged her skirts. The general merely nodded and stepped slightly behind her chair.

"That is not a risk I am willing to take, my queen," Tenneth told her, face forming that same bleak expression it took when he was particularly focused. Shrugging, Susan turned her attention back to the tournament. Lucy sat down on her side, with Gerdi next to Lucy. The Duke of Galma was nearer the end of the platform, involved in a lively discussion with the Lords Baerd and Donnon. Lord Scythley was watching the readying knights intently, ignoring the other three.

"Who do you think will win?" Gerdi asked Susan excitedly. Her momentary embarrassment caused by Caspian had been smoothed over by the very handsome knight that had approached her after the Kings had left. "Do you think it will be the High King?"

Susan and Lucy both grinned at Gerdi's innocent statement.

"If it was a swordfight, then Peter might have a good chance. But since today is only a joust, well…" Susan trailed off, unwilling to publicly tease her brother the way she did in private. Lucy didn't mind.

"He'll be lucky to make it past the first horse," Lucy giggled. "But we still love him."

"Surely not," Gerdi said staunchly, having faith in the High King. It was well founded too, because as the pounding of hooves and the crashing of wood against metal filled the air, Peter rode against two different knights successfully. The second he actually managed to unhorse much to the delight of the crowds. Caspian similarly did well, although not without effort, because the knights had taken his offer quite seriously. Many rode, but eventually a call went out, pairing the two present Kings of Narnia to take arms against each other. A slight tension went through the air as each trotted to their side of the list field.

"What shall I be called if I unhorse you?" Peter called jovially as he was handed his lance.

"Lucky!" Caspian called back, grinning and taking up his own.

Lucy found herself holding her breath as the two lowered their visors, tilted their lances, and spurred their horses forward. Then she expelled her breath in relief when, after only a stride or two, the High King reined in his charger. For a second it seemed as if Caspian would continue riding on, but then he too slowed and raised his lance. The two met at the center of the ring, and Peter pushed his visor up first, indicating that he was deflecting in favor of Caspian.

"Being as this is your home, my friend," Peter announced with a smile. "I will not raise arms to you." Looking almost disappointed, Caspian nodded. Then Peter turned to the gathered Narnians, Old and New.

"However, when the King comes to visit at Cair Paravel, he can deflect to me," the High King added with a grin. After a split second of silence for that to sink in, the Narnians roared as they realized what the High King's words meant. He intended on rebuilding their ancient castle home and returning to rule from there. Caught up in the excitement, the Telmarines cheered too, and it took them well after Peter had quit the field and returned side by side with Caspian for the commotion to die down.

"Oh Su, do you know what that means?" Lucy cried out happily, tugging at her sister's sleeve. "It means we are going home! Peter is going to take us home." Susan shared Lucy's excitement, but it was slightly muted by the obviously unhappy expression on Caspian's face.

"His Majesty seems less than pleased at the announcement," Gerdi said quietly, having picked up on it. Then she was distracted. "Oh look, my knight is next!"

Her knight, a young Telmarine who had yet to make a name for himself, was quite good. In fact, at after several more rounds were completed, it ended up being just him against Caspian. The young king at this point was bruised and battered, but he seemed unaware of the pain. He also seemed devoid of the exhaustion showing on the knight's face. If one has seen jousting somewhere else, they might have been surprised at how many rides they had both completed at this point. But in Narnia, jousting was more than just strength and skill, it was endurance. (For Gerdi's knight, it was also a chance to become something More, but we can speak of this later.)

Susan had been growing nervous as the day wore on, not because she feared Caspian wouldn't win. It was because she knew these games, and knew the King. He was strong and young, but even he should have faltered by now. The rider carrying her colors was like an unknown man, relentless. Therefore she wasn't sure who she feared for more as the two faced off, Caspian or Gerdi's knight. Destrier, having been well rested between rounds, was full of energy as Caspian turned him and drove him forward. Gerdi's knight did the same as they came together with a crash. Caspian's lance struck a sideways blow to the knight's shield, but Susan sucked in a breath when she saw the knight's aim had been true, striking Caspian in the torso, the lance shattering as it did.

Caspian was thrown half out of his saddle, and for a moment it looked as if he had been knocked silly from the blow, slipping sideways off the saddle as Destrier trotted in a circle and slowed. But even as Peter spurred forward to help his friend, Caspian grabbed the saddle and drug himself back up, keeping from being unhorsed by the slightest margin. Peter grabbed Destrier's reins and helped them back to their side, although Caspian quickly wrenched them away. Opening his visor, the king spat crimson, looking wildly about him.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked, for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Caspian nodded, shifting awkwardly around as if trying to settle his armor back in place. Across the list field, the knight had taken a second lance and stood waiting on his king to either continue or forfeit.

Peter looked at his friend worriedly. "Caspian, are you _sure_ you're alright?"

"Never better," Caspian said shortly, then he tightened up on Destrier's reins.

"You look pale."

"I said I am fine!" Caspian snapped. He grabbed his visor and slamming it down, turning his horse in a tight circle as he did. Destrier fought the heavy handedness, rearing up, then exploding forward as Caspian drove his heels into the animal's sides. Across the arena, the other rider lowered his visor and spurred on his own mount. From the platform, the girls watched breathlessly.

"Oh, Queen Susan, isn't King Caspian brave?" Gerdi couldn't keep herself from saying. "He is going to continue!"

"There is something wrong with him," Lucy was biting her lip worriedly. "Susan, why is he acting like this? He's being so rough with Destrier!"

"The King was readying his horse, Queen Lucy," Gerdi assured the younger girl. "It is expected to have the chargers high spirited."

"No, she's right," Susan suddenly said, rising to her feet as the two horses turned and began running towards each other. "Something's wrong. He's--"

Susan's words were lost beneath the heavy crash of wood on steel, as both riders' lances broke. Wood sheared off, spraying both with splinters as thick as a Dwarf's thumb.

"He's what?" Lucy cried.

"He's bleeding!" Susan repeated, gripping onto the railing in front of her. Lucy jumped up, straining to see. But Caspian had turned a darkened Destrier and was galloping back for another lance, and it was hard to tell.

"I don't know what you mean," Lucy pulled on Susan's sleeve. "Where?"

"Look at the horse, your Majesty," Gerdi whispered, suddenly sounding sick. The animal was wet with sweat, his neck lathered white and his hips glistening with… Lucy let out a little cry when she realized that wasn't sweat. Susan picked up her skirts, dashing across the platform with Lucy in tow. By the way the crowds were cheering, it was doubtful that they realized the King's horse was covered in his own blood.

"Peter!" Susan cried, but words were lost beneath the roaring of the crowds as Caspian reached for his third lance. The High King didn't need Susan's warning to know what was happening.

"Caspian!" Peter yelled at his friend, trying to block Destrier with his own mount. "You're injured! You need to forfeit!"

"Never!" Caspian snarled, a wild eyed Destrier plunging beneath him.

"Do _not_ give him that!" Peter roared at the man bringing up the last lance. He froze, uncertain. But Caspian pushed in front of him, reaching for the lance and pulling it from his arms with a strength that he shouldn't have had. Neither man saw Susan running up to them.

"Get out of my way, Peter!" Caspian spat, driving Destrier's shoulder into Peter's horse, forcing it aside. The High King's horse stumbled but caught itself just in time to keep from going down. Peter hauled up on the animal's head to help it regain balance. Then, as the frightened horse spun its hindquarters towards the rearing Destrier, Peter realized that his sister was caught in the middle.

"Damn it, Caspian!" Peter yelled, trying to grab a hold of a wide-eyed Susan's hand. She was caught between both animals, and being no higher than either rider's hip, she was in danger of being trampled.

"Peter, stop him!" Susan cried, pointing at the blood soaked Destrier. "Caspian!"

But Caspian was in a frenzy, and neither heard nor noticed the queen. Peter managed to hook her beneath the armpit and haul her halfway up the side of his horse, his sister grabbing the saddle horn as Caspian spurred forward one last time right where she had been standing. The huge black war horse threw itself forward, faster than any well trained destrier was supposed to go. Once out of danger of Caspian's mount, Peter managed to settle his and let Susan drop back down to her feet. From over here, Susan couldn't see nearly as well, but she did flinch when she heard the crashing of horses together, and the roaring of the crowd.

"Get Lucy and meet us behind the platform," Peter commanded curtly. "Get out of here; he's liable to trample you when he gets back. Find some healers!"

"What's wrong with him?" Susan asked, already stepping back. "Doesn't he know he's hurt?"

"Su, go!"

She did, because the look on Peter's face was so grim that it scared her, and it took a lot to scare Susan. Peter watched her retreat with relief, then wheeled his own mount around. One of the riders was on the ground. It wasn't Caspian. The people were screaming and jumping up and down, incredibly excited at such a dramatic show. They were doubly excited that the winner had been their own king, and Peter doubted that any of them knew that Caspian was… _wrong_.

Trotting Destrier back to Peter, Caspian felt his chest fill with the fullness of victory. He had won! He was the best! The people loved him! Why was the High King yelling at him?

"You idiot!" Peter snarled, forcing his horse up next to Caspian's. "You could have killed Susan!"

"What? I won!" The Telmarine king pushed his visor up.

"You almost rode her down!" Peter grabbed onto Caspian's arm, then looked closely. The usually tanned king was nearly translucent. "Hell, you're going to pass out any second. Well, wave to them and don't you dare do it until we're out of sight."

"I feel fine," Caspian retorted, not understanding why Peter was making such a fuss, and finding it angered him greatly. He was the King! How dare anyone say anything to him like that?!

Peter's grip on Caspian's arm was what kept him from sliding off the side of his horse, as the King waved to the crowds. The High King barely managed to get both his and Caspian's horses out of the arena and to the curtained off section behind the large platform. There several men helped pull the King from his horse, and started prying him out of his armor. As commanded Susan was waiting, and she stepped up to Peter as he clumsily dismounted with help.

"What was he doing?"

"I don't know," Peter shook his head. "He wasn't making any sense."

"Is Caspian going to be okay?" Lucy asked worriedly, coming up behind Susan. "Oh, I wish I had my cordial right now! I feel so helpless without it."

"I do not know what the fuss is about, but I will not be manhandled like this," Caspian was saying, trying to push off the helping men. Then with a cry of anger he leapt to his feet and slammed his fist into one, catching him across the jaw and knocking him out cold. "_Get off of me_!"

Peter stared in shock, then had the wits to grab up Lucy in his arms and pull her out of the way as Caspian leapt forward towards the queens. Lord Tenneth was already moving to intercede, but Caspian (being strangely quicker than normal) managed to take hold of Susan by the waist, lifting her up and spinning her around.

"I have won this conquest for you, my queen!" Caspian declared proudly.

"Caspian!" Susan gasped. "Put me down. You just hit someone and you're in need of attention!"

"Aye," the king said with a dangerous gleam in his eye as he set her down. "I have _many_ needs that require _your_ attention, Queen Susan."

Susan gasped at his audacity, but then found her gasp covered by his mouth as the King gave her a bruising kiss in front of everyone. Lord Tenneth had just managed to hook Caspian beneath the arms to drag him back when Susan, acutely embarrassed to be treated so in front of her subjects, gave Caspian a resounding slap across the face. He looked surprised then realized he was being drug away from her. If they thought up to this point that the king had been acting strangely, they had no idea.

Caspian lost it.

With an animal snarl, Caspian threw himself backwards into the general, taking the seasoned soldier by surprise. Tenneth stumbled, loosening his grip, and Caspian reached behind his back to grab the general's head. Throwing himself forward into a roll, Caspian flipped Tenneth over his shoulder and onto the ground in front of him. Tenneth hit at a bad angle, and Lucy screamed when she heard something snap. Not knowing how badly injured Tenneth was, Peter shoved Lucy to a shocked Susan and leapt forward into Caspian. Just like most of his rumbles, Peter had the advantage at the beginning, knocking his opponent down and getting a few good hits in. Then, as normal, Peter found himself on his back, struggling to keep Caspian's fist from connecting with his own face. Caspian managed to land one blow (which would be quite a shiner in the morning!) before a mass of guards, Narnian and Telmarine, pulled him off. They barely managed to contain him, although having Alfred the Bulgy Bear sit on him did help.

"Oh, don't hurt him more!" Lucy cried. "He's bleeding so much already!" And it was true. Although Caspian continued to fight, his struggles grew weaker as the blood loss started to show through his rage.

"Back off, back off you lot!" Mrs. Badger ordered, marching up and taking command. "Rosetta, put those rags on his side to stop it up… don't let go of him, you lot... Alfred, your paw is in my way!"

There was such a commotion around Caspian, and Susan was still reeling from his words, so she cast around for something useful to do besides standing and staring. Lucy had the same idea, and was pulling her towards the prone general. Lady Gerdi was kneeling in the dirt beside him, holding his hand and talking calmly. Susan did the same on his other side with Lucy hovering above.

"Can you feel my fingers against your palm?" Gerdi asked in a no nonsense manner. Susan knew why. Even though Tenneth was conscious, it was quite possible that Caspian had broken his neck.

"Yes," Tenneth growled, looking very embarrassed and not making eye contact with any of them. "I need to get up."

"In a moment," Gerdi put her palm against his calf, where his armor jointed. She pressed down hard. "Can you feel that?"

"Yes," the general replied, trying to crane his eyes around to see what was occurring behind the queens.

"Am I pressing lightly?"

"No." Gerdi caught Susan's eye and nodded in relief.

"Good. Where is your pain?"

"My shoulder," Tenneth told her, grateful that they were backing off and letting him sit up. "I will live. How is the King?"

"Enraged, my Lord," Gerdi said worriedly. Susan took hold of Tenneth's rough hand and pulled him to his feet.

"The King smells strangely," Alfred could be heard telling Mrs. Badger, causing the Animal to look up sharply and take a strong sniff.

"I do believe you are right, Alfred," she said. The Badger went about peering in Caspian's eyes, and, much to his anger, pried open his mouth. She peered at his tongue, sniffing again. "Hmm."

"What is it, Good Badger?" Peter asked, pushing back his hair out of his eyes. His left eyebrow was split, and a dark bruise was already forming. "Do you know what's wrong with him?"

Mrs. Badger shifted uncomfortably, then she turned to the High King.

Yes, your Majesty. I think… well I more than think, I know really, although one can never be completely certain--"

"Mrs. Badger, please get on with it," Susan cried, feeling Caspian's angry eyes drilling into her as she approached. He was not the Caspian she knew! When Mrs. Badger spoke, the Narnian's answer made so much sense, that Susan found herself almost relieved.

"I believe his Majesty has been poisoned."

* * *

It was being hunted.

It knew this, the way the predator always knows when it becomes the prey. But it was not worried. The ones that followed were far behind, and had no hope of catching it before it reached its lair. And when it did? When it did the prey would become the predator once more.

* * *

"They call it amphet," Dr. Cornelius told them solemnly, taking off his spectacles and rubbing them with a cloth. It was a nervous habit that he had picked, and it had nothing to do with the cleanliness of the glass. "And it can be found in the one of the small shrubs indigenous to an island outside of Narnia. I do not know how the King received it, but he has been getting doses for some time now."

"What does it do?" Lucy asked, looking at the door of the sickroom where Caspian had been confined. "Confined" was a gentle term. He had become so violent that they feared he would hurt himself even more, and had strapped him down with softened leathers to a sickbed. He hadn't appreciated that and his curses carried through from that room into this one. Susan flinched as a particularly nasty explicative escaped Caspian's mouth. No one noticed Lady Gerdi going quite still.

"In brief? It is an accelerant of sorts, a dangerous one. It is used by those trying to increase their performances. Right now Caspian feels stronger, faster, and is not aware of how much more aggressive he is acting. It explains his behavior today, although I wish that it didn't."

"Why?" Susan asked. "Won't it work its way out of his system?"

"It will… eventually. But it seems as if he has been given more than a standard dose, and until it does fade, the dear boy will be in for a rough time of it. We must pray his heart holds out, because that's the dangerous part. If he cannot outlast the poison in his system, then the King could die."

"Which island do they find this plant at?" Peter asked grimly. Dr. Cornelius looked extremely uncomfortable, and the reason why finally spoke up.

"They find the plant in Galma," the Lady Gerdi whispered, looking quite pale and drawn. "And only there."

No one said anything, but they were all looking at her intently. Gerdi looked straight ahead and continued in a strangled voice.

"It is quite beautiful and therefore hasn't been completely removed, although it is thought that it should have been. Derivation of its juices into a fine powder produces amphet. It has been forbidden for decades."

"And the poison _has_ to come from Galma?" Lucy asked, looking at Gerdi. The lady of Galma rose, her head held stiffly high.

"Permission to withdraw, your Majesty," she begged of Peter. He waved his hand at her, shaking his head as if she was being silly.

"Permission denied. Gerdi, sit back down." She sank to her seat, looking as if any moment she was going to crumble and break into tears. The High King continued to shake his head. "Just because it comes from Galma doesn't mean that it was administered by Galma. In fact, that would be rather stupid to do. If I was going to poison someone, I'd find the kind that came from the furthest away from me."

"Unless you were trying to set someone up," Lord Tenneth said grimly. The general had his shoulder bandaged, but was once more at Susan's side. "The poison and the arrival of the Duke and his daughter coincided perfectly."

"That doesn't work out, though," Peter said, brow furrowing. "No one knew of the visit until the Duke arrived that very day."

Gerdi's head snapped up, and she looked confused. "But that is not true. My father would have never made a state visit without proper notification. We even received correspondence from the King himself prior to our departure, welcoming…" She fell off unhappily.

"Continue, child," Cornelius urged gently. Gerdi blushed in humiliation.

"It welcomed me particularly."

Lucy went and sat next to Gerdi, taking her hand. "No wonder Hornabret was so upset that Caspian fancies Su," Lucy said quietly. She squeezed Gerdi's hand. "I'm sorry, but Caspian never knew you were coming."

"Then his Majesty has been very tolerant and kind to me," Gerdi replied with a bit of a sniff. "Despite the situation. I shall have to apologize to him on my father's and my behalf. Father was so eager to push for a match… he even ordered me a new wardrobe for this visit."

Everyone was polite enough not to reply to that last bit, although Peter did clear his throat.

"Do we know who would be able to fake the royal seal?" Susan finally spoke up. She looked particularly strained, and had been ever since Cornelius had expressed his fears over Caspian's heart giving out. However she resolutely kept her eyes away from the sickroom door, and she pretended not to hear Caspian's angry shouting.

"But it did not _look_ fake," Gerdi slumped, showing much more of her freckles than before. "We have a scribe whose job it is to tell. The seal was real. Father always insists on making sure."

"Who is in charge of official documents going from the palace?" Peter asked Lord Tenneth.

"Technically, I am in charge of that as well, sire." Now it was the general's turn to look uncomfortable. "The King pens his own letters, and then gives them to me. My men deliver them promptly." Lord Tenneth had an expression on his face as if this admittance indicted himself. However instead of accusations, he was only met with Susan's exasperated sigh.

"Doesn't Caspian realize you can't do everything?" Susan wondered, sounding aggravated as she turned to Peter. "With the general stretched so thin, it is no wonder that something false slipped through."

"It should not have happened at all, my queen," Tenneth whispered softly, but she held up her hand stopping him.

"No, it shouldn't have. Caspian has just cause to trust few in this palace, but that does not mean he can rely over heavily on those he does trust. We must lighten your responsibilities, my lord. No, don't look like that, Tenneth, this is not your fault. We all should have been paying better attention."

The general said nothing as Susan looked at her brother. "I think that today has made the situation here pretty clear. It's time we started stepping in more."

The High King looked vaguely uncomfortable.

"Su, are you sure that's a good idea? Caspian won't ever learn to be a fit king if we hold his hand all the time."

"And he won't be king at all if he gets killed in the meantime," Susan retorted. "Someone has already tried to assassinate him, and now they have poisoned him. We don't even know how. You run a better kingdom than this, Peter, and you know it."

"But is this really my kingdom to run?" Peter countered, speaking openly as if he had forgotten the rest of them were in the room. "Aslan told us we were to leave and that we were never coming back again. Any time we spend here is borrowed time, you know that as well as anyone. When things are settled here we will go to Cair Paravel, but this is not the days of Old. We are political figureheads, Su, but _Caspian_ is King of Narnia. We are only here to smooth out the edges."

"Well, consider the edges wrinkled, Peter, because Caspian might die tonight. And then you are High King of Narnia _and_ the Telmarines, so holding yourself separate from the Telmarines is not good enough. You need to stop this before it gets even worse."

"What would you suggest me do?" Peter asked wearily.

"Overrule Caspian's charge of Tenneth as my bodyguard to start with, so that he can concentrate on the things that he should."

"My queen, your safety is my top priority," Tenneth spoke up firmly, then flushed at her raised eyebrow.

"As General of the Telmarine side of the Narnian army, your top priority is keeping Narnia safe," Susan said firmly. "I am well enough protected, but it seems as if the King is not."

Lucy had remained quiet throughout this, but she finally spoke up.

"You're acting just as Caspian did," Lucy tipped her head as she spoke to Susan. "He bullied you to keep you safe, and now you're doing the same thing to Peter to keep Caspian safe. You don't have to push things so hard, you can just admit you're scared. No one will think less of you. We all are worried about him."

Susan turned red at little Lucy's words, then was angry, then flushed and looked down. Peter gave Susan a sympathetic glance, and then he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

"Su is right about Lord Tenneth. But I don't want to go about overruling Caspian." Peter seemed very firm about this. "He needs to know we are supporting him, not working against him. So we leave things as are until he gets better, which he will. Then I will talk to him and see if I can get him to reorganize."

This obviously wasn't good enough to Susan, but she knew when Peter had that tone that he would not be budged, so she had no choice but to accept it.

"I do wish I had my cordial," Lucy bemoaned. "Then we wouldn't have to worry."

It suddenly occurred to the group that Caspian had fallen very quiet, and unable to stop herself, Susan rose and slipped into the room to check. They couldn't hear what was said, but she reappeared quickly, her face flaming.

"He is fevered," she said in a trembling voice. "Worse than before." At once the healer went disappeared into the sickroom. Peter watched this all grimly, seeing the effect it was having on them all. Finally he stood up.

"I think you all should head off now. There's nothing more that can be done. I need you lot to make a good showing at the ball, to keep the people from growing suspicious. Tell them that the King and I are worn out from the joust and have retired early. I'll stay with Caspian tonight, help him get through this," he added for the girls' benefit. "Gerdi, please keep this as discreet as possible. Inform your father of tonight's discoveries, but make it clear the crown has no intention in holding Galma responsible."

Gerdi curtseyed, but looked worried. "My father is a proud man. If he feels there is even the tiniest slight given, he will take great offense."

Peter groaned, but shook his head. "Then tell the Duke I will meet with him personally in the morning. But right now I have a friend and comrade in need. And Su, please try to think calmly about this all. Be careful what you say when this is over, because Caspian in very heavily influenced by you. Don't make that a bad thing."

Susan, not sure whether to be offended or angry, simply left the room, the Lady Gerdi and Lord Tenneth in tow. Lucy held back, wise eyes watching her brother sit back down heavily in his chair. Lucy came forward and gave Peter a big hug, holding on tight. Surprised, the High King gave her a squeeze back.

"What was that for, Lu?"

"For taking care of us all," she told him seriously. "I don't know what we'd do without you."

Peter chuckled and gave her a kiss on the top of her head.

"Then let's hope you never find out. The question is, who's going to take care of me?"

An impish grin curved Lucy's mouth. "That's what Edmund's for." Peter swatted at her playfully for her cheekiness, then watched her dart out of the room. For a moment he thought about how grand it would be to live in Lu's world, where there was always a big brother to make things okay. Then he noticed Dr. Cornelius still in the corner.

"I was hoping your Majesty would allow me to remain," the half dwarf said. "The King is the closest thing to a child I have ever had. I would be with him through this, if I could."

"We both will be," Peter said with forced optimism. "Caspian's strong enough to tough this out."

Yet when they entered the sickroom, Peter found that he wasn't quite so sure.

* * *

It is possible that some of you are wondering the details of what occurred, when Peter and Cornelius stayed with Caspian through his feverish night. However, out of respect for the King, it is best to say only this: the angry accusations, vicious insults, and lewd exclamations that left his mouth were not his fault. And neither the High King nor the doctor ever spoke of what Caspian said to a single soul, nor took to heart his words. After his ravings had passed, Caspian became quite violently ill, retching repeatedly even after his stomach was empty. Then he was taken by tremors, so painful that even a man as brave as the King couldn't help but cry out. His heart raced so fast they thought it would explode. Throughout it all, Peter never left his side, holding him as if he were a brother.

The Telmarine King made it through the night. It is said that love was the reason why.

* * *

"Do you think everyone is alright back home?" Edmund asked out of the blue, trudging along doggedly beside his horse. The animal had gone lame a kilometer back, and the young monarch had hopes that a brief rest from carrying him would be sufficient to return it to health. It wasn't looking too good at the moment, though as the animal was limping worse with each step.

"They're probably having a better run of luck then us," Trumpkin grumped from in front. He was leading his own horse, unwilling to ride when his king could not. "If I didn't know better, I'd think that Wolf there has been leading us astray. Nothing travels as irregular as this Beast seems to be doing."

"Sire, is it wise to trust a Creature so dark?" Reepicheep asked worriedly, agreeing with Trumpkin. "Perhaps we are being purposefully delayed, to give the Beast a greater head start. Plus, the Wolf has been gone for three days."

"Enough," Edmund ordered wearily. "I believe Maugrim, and you lot ought to as well. We've only made it this far because of him. And he's not as gone as you think." To back up Edmund's words, out of the corner of his eye, Reepicheep saw a slinking grey figure within the nearby trees.

"He shows up every time we start speaking about him," Edmund added with the touch of a smile. "So watch your tongues, in case he gets hungry."

"I fear no man or Beast!" Reepicheep declared bravely, brandishing his sword. Trumpkin just grunted, his watchful eye on his king's face. Whatever Edmund was thinking, he tended to keep to himself. But the king was growing quieter with each step, his witticisms coming less and less often. It was beginning to worry the Dwarf, who had come to rely on Edmund's humor to appease his own fears of this trip. If Trumpkin was being honest, the Beast had frightened him quite a bit. Yet with the memories of it came the memory of Queen Lucy, helpless beneath the feeding creature, and the tears in her eyes when she realized her cordial was gone. That was what bolstered Trumpkin's resolve when his own feet grew too weary.

Trumpkin was a good traveler, alert and observant. He had spent his whole life tramping about the backwoods of Narnia. But he, like many of the Narnian Creatures when they were with the capable Kings and Queens of Old, allowed himself to feel too safe and his mind to drift too far. That was why he never even noticed that the ground was growing to soft beneath his feet, and it was only the snort of his horse that warned him before the earth gave out underneath him. Trumpkin found himself plummeting downwards in a pile of dirt and debris.

"Trumpkin!" Edmund shouted, watching the Dwarf disappear from view. Edmund dropped his reins and leapt forward, Reepicheep in suit, dodging the quickly backing horse in front of him.

"Umph!" they heard a loud grunt as they peered into the Dwarf sized hole, about four meters deep, with sides so steep and slippery that not even Reepicheep would have been able to have climbed back out.

"Are you alright?" Edmund yelled down. Looking disgusted with himself, Trumpkin stood up and dusted his hands off on his pants.

"Besides looking the fool?" the Dwarf muttered? "I am fine."

Edmund set about lowering a rope to his friend, while Reepicheep poked his nose around the hole.

"Sire?" the Mouse's nose was twitching. Edmund grunted in response, focusing on bracing himself so that the Dwarf could climb up the rope. "I believe this is not a natural hole. It was covered with branches and leaves, hidden deliberately."

"Perfect," Trumpkin snapped, his bulbous nose coming into view above the rim of the hole. "I walk right into someone's supper snare."

"What digs a trap this deep, though?" Edmund wondered aloud. "It's no good if you can't get easily to what's inside it."

"_You_ might not be able to get into it, sire," Reepicheep said solemnly. "But something much larger could."

The other two paused for a second to think about that. Then Trumpkin was out of the hole as fast as his rough hands could climb, with Edmund pulling the rope for all he was worth. No one needed to say anything, they all scrambled to get their things and horses and hurry along the way. Had they bothered to look back (which they didn't do nearly enough on a venture as dangerous as this one!), they would have seen Maugrim laying next to the hole, his tongue lolling out in a Wolfish grin.

* * *

The ball was a beautifully attended affair, and everyone there said that the retired kings had ridden gloriously. They said similarly nice things about Queens Susan and Lucy, and even Lady Gerdi, and went about enjoying themselves tremendously. Only a few scuffles broke out between the Telmarines and the Narnians, mainly caused by four drunken and rather wretched Black Dwarves. So they cheered their kings and queens, ate and drank themselves silly, and had to be helped back to bed. If anyone noticed the grim expression on Queen Susan's face when she thought no one was watching, or the occasional tear slip down Queen Lucy's cheek during the festivities, then they did not say anything.

After all, who really understands royalty, anyway?

* * *

He had awoken twice, and had found each time to be a horrible thing. However, when Caspian awoke the third time, well into the next day, the terrible pains in his stomach and limbs were gone. Unfortunately his side still hurt ferociously and he had an awful headache. Not realizing he wasn't alone, he let out a pained groan as he rolled over.

"Caspian?" a soft voice asked worriedly. He opened his eyes and blinked, realizing who sat at his side. A second groan escaped his mouth, this one for entirely different reasons. Sick as he had been, the king remembered _everything_.

"Aslan take me," Caspian sighed and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Hmmmm… after all that trouble he went to getting you put on the throne? Doubtful." A wet cloth touched his forehead, cool water dripping down his temples as she attended him. "How do you feel?"

"Like a fool." Feeling as if he should make the effort to be more respectably upright, Caspian tried to push himself up into a sitting position. Sharp pain tore through his side and he grunted, slipping back down.

"Do you need a healer?"

"Nay, my queen."

"Is there anything you do need?" she asked gently, touching his hand. He didn't reply so leaned in closer. "Caspian?"

"I need forgiveness."

Susan remained quiet a moment, and he wondered if that was more than he would get.

"We all need forgiveness," Susan finally said, sounding older than she was. "But for some, like yourself, there are fewer things to forgive. You have done nothing wrong, Caspian."

"I have shamed myself in your eyes," Caspian despaired, and his heart hurt. "The things that I have said and done these last few days… the way I have spoken to others, the way I treated you… there is no excuse."

"You mean besides the logical one of you being poisoned?" Susan sounded a touch amused, and she removed the cloth to rewet it.

"I understand the purpose of the herb," he said softly, humiliated. "It brings out the true nature of a thing. And I was… I was not what I should have been."

Susan remained quiet, then she replaced the cloth on his forehead.

"And what should you have been?" Susan finally asked, her voice betraying nothing of her true feelings. Caspian sighed and opened his eyes, staring at the high ceiling.

"Better than that…" he whispered. "Better than this."

"You're mistaken, you know. Amphet is intended to make someone what they are not, which is why they take it. You _are_ better than that, although you seem determined not to see it," Susan scolded him lightly, making Caspian flush. "And you should know better than to punish yourself for the evil deeds of others. Unless, of course, his Majesty believes that he is responsible for everything in Narnia, and seeks to replace the High King."

"Of course not!" Caspian was shocked that she even suggested it. "I would never think to do such a thing."

"See? You are much more honorable than you allow yourself to realize. That being said, are you ever going to ask Peter's permission to court me?"

It came completely out of nowhere, and Caspian half sat up in surprise, the cloth falling in his lap. His headache and side were quickly being forgotten.

"My queen?" Susan almost laughed at the way he looked. Then she realized he was bare-chested and became distracted by the way he looked.

"Are you ever going to ask my brother permission?" she repeated, taking the cloth back and setting it next to the basin. "Because it's becoming quite the scandal, and I won't spend all the rest of my days here letting you muss me about in secret in the sickrooms."

At that one, Caspian sat completely up. "I… I have never done that, my queen," he said, looking confused and offended at the same time. "Whoever has made that accusation will be dealt with soundly."

Susan sighed. He was really a bit daft sometimes.

"_Caspian_," she said again with a little smile that curved her mouth prettily. "I won't spend all the rest of my days here letting you muss me about in secret in the sickrooms." With that she leaned over and kissed him. The king sat in shock for a moment, then lifted his hand to her face, kissing her back softly. To Caspian, it was like being pulled out of his recent nightmare and into the real world, where there was only her and him and this. Finally, she pulled away, but her eyes were locked on his.

"Not all the rest of the days here?" Caspian inquired, a shy smile touching his lips. Ahhh. He was starting to get it.

"Not _all_ of them," Susan repeated, then she shifted so that she was sitting on the edge of the bed. Caspian kissed her more firmly, and she let herself relax and enjoy this. Except for that once, their kisses had always been brief and chaste. But this time they lingered. Even though she was right next to him, it still felt too far away. He must have agreed, because his arm snaked around her waist, pulling her closer. The kisses grew more fierce, and she could feel the hard planes of his body as he pressed her to him.

Susan was finding it quite hard to breathe, sucking in tight gasps in the brief moments his mouth left hers and travelled down her throat. She shivered as Caspian bit down lightly where her neck met her shoulder, feeling his hands tug at her with growing desire. She experienced a brief moment of panic. How well did she know him? How well could a person really know anyone? What if there were other reasons he hadn't asked Peter for permission, and never intended to? What if she was being as scandalous as _they_ implied? Years of Narnian bias against promiscuity made even such small actions as these seem hugely inappropriate. Caspian wasn't even her suitor, and his hand was against the small of her back, drawing her up to him again…

As he leaned down to kiss her once more, Susan placed her hand against his chest to stop him.

"You will ask? Because you want to?" she sounded unsure, and Caspian kissed her brow tenderly.

"Had I any assurance of your agreement, I would have asked a lifetime ago," he promised. "Aye, I will speak to High King Peter immediately."

"Okay." Susan seemed to become uncomfortable, and she pulled back a touch, even though still in his arms.

"You doubt my intentions." Caspian caught and held her gaze, seeing the different emotions play across her face. "I can see it in your eyes."

"I… it's not what you think. I know you care about me," Susan said, growing embarrassed. "I don't mean to offend."

"My dear queen, you could never do that."

Susan nodded and leaned in once more, but instead of kissing her again directly, Caspian held still, just watching her.

"They say I am a fool for you," he said in a quiet, serious voice. He stroked her cheek lightly with the back of his hand. "If it is true, then I would rather live a day as a fool than a lifetime as a king."

Susan smiled up at him. "Lucy is right," she told him. "You are much nicer than all the others."

"My words are not without feeling," he told her in a vulnerable voice. "I would never dishonor you that way. "

"Caspian…" She softened in his arms, and leaned her forehead against his shoulder. Sighing in relief at her gesture of trust, the king gathered her close.

Despite his passion for her, Caspian was a gentleman, and it never crossed his mind that in this situation he could expect anything too untoward to happen. But that didn't mean that he wasn't prepared to muss her thoroughly, and muss her he did. He did realize quite quickly that if he wished to keep his self control, then he needed to stay in a more upright position. Therefore most of the kisses occurred with him leaning back against the headboard, Susan tucked carefully in his arms. He was so happy that even the embarrassment of Mrs. Badger walking in (and then promptly walking right back out again!) couldn't keep the smile from his face. It wasn't until later, as he held the peacefully dozing queen cradled against his chest, that Caspian realized how easily she had taken him away from his troubled thoughts.

Wondering if perhaps he needed her too much, Caspian held her close and let himself be content for this moment.

* * *

A/N Sorry it took so long. Hopefully the length makes up for it. Thanks everyone who reviewed the last chapter. You guys are awesome. :)


	10. Chapter 10

A/N I'm resurrecting my previously lifeless livejournal account. While writing this fic I will be posting there as well, such things as progress on the newest chapter, little snippets of the next chapter, and so on. I can answer any comments or questions people have if they feel like saying something. My homepage link will take you there, if anyone wants. If not, then here we go.

**The Lost Chronicles of Narnia: The Beast of Witherby**

Chapter Ten

It was a very long way down.

That was the thought that kept repeating itself in Lucy Pevensie's head as she leaned a bit too far over the battlements, staring at the incredible drop off all around the castle. It was beyond her how they had even built this place without the help of flying Beasts. She wondered how many unfortunate people had slipped and fell during construction, then decided that she didn't want to think about such things. Because really... it was a very long way down.

"Your Majesty should be careful." A deep masculine voice spoke directly behind her, startling Lucy and making her yelp. She pitched forward just a touch, not enough to be in danger, but enough to think that the possibility could exist should she decide to pitch forward even more. Thankfully a chain mailed hand gripped her none too lightly, and she was jerked backwards away from the edge. A very stern General Tenneth glared down at her, much as one does to a child who has been misbehaving. Lucy, being a Queen along with being a child, immediately felt embarrassed along with feeling guilty. (Adults are like that, when they know they've been especially foolish.)

"Well, I was alright until I was startled," Lucy felt she had to say, even as she gave the tall pepper haired Telmarine an apologetic smile.

"The battlements are not for play, your Majesty," Tenneth said, his voice a bit of a growl.

"But I wasn't playing," Lucy informed him. "Everyone else comes up here to do their thinking. I just thought I'd see why."

"And have you seen why?" the general raised an eyebrow. Lucy flushed, wondering if he was deliberately trying to make her feel like a silly girl. He was usually nicer than this.

"I never got around to paying attention," she admitted. "I got distracted. It is quite scary, you know. The drop, that is. Has anyone ever fallen?"

The general was quiet for a moment, and then gave her a quirky look.

"There is a long standing history of important nobles finding these battlements… slippery," he told her in a flat voice.

"Well, that's silly. You'd have to be walking along the tops to slip…" Lucy trailed off as understanding dawned, her eyes slowly widening. "Oh. Oh! How awful! Has that happened recently?"

Once more Lord Tenneth fixed her with that same odd look. "Not too recently, your Majesty."

"That's good. I'd hate to think that there are people out there that would do such things."

"Your Majesty would be surprised."

Lucy sighed and then hugged the general's arm tightly. "You know, I really do hate to think about things like that. In the Old times, they didn't happen. Or if they did, it was because of an especially terrible creature started making trouble. I've never seen such things done in the name of politics. Aslan would be so disappointed."

"Your Majesties are unused to political positioning?" Tenneth wondered. "The High King seems more capable than would be expected in that case. King Caspian is used to it, being a Telmarine, but High King Peter seems to see right through many of the Lords' plots."

"That's because he's Peter," Lucy said proudly. "And you forget. We were Kings and Queens for a long time before now. Peter looks young, but in him is a lifetime of experiences. They say that he was the best King Narnia ever had. What are you doing up here, anyway?"

Tenneth blinked at the sudden shift in topic. "I have found my current duties diminished," the general muttered, sounding less than pleased. "I had a free moment before drills."

"You don't guard Su anymore, do you?" Lucy noticed a brief angry look which he failed to cover. "You don't like that Caspian ordered you not to?"

"Your Majesty, may I escort you down to the grounds?"

"That was a subject change."

"Yes, your Majesty."

Lucy gave him a sympathetic look and she patted his muscled arm. "I'm sure it wasn't your fault, my lord. Maybe when this has blown over, I can talk to them for you."

"Come, Queen Lucy," Lord Tenneth said firmly, leading her towards the stairs. "The battlements are no place for royalty these days."

She came along willing, hearing only the usual seriousness in his voice, and still glancing back at the drop off. Therefore Lucy completely missed the tiny look of triumph in the general's eyes.

* * *

"May I speak with you, High King Peter?"

The High King had just finished a long and mildly frustrating discussion with the Duke of Galma when the Telmarine King knocked and stepped into his study. By the slightly nervous look in Caspian's eyes and the overly formal use of his title, Peter had a pretty good idea what this was about. He leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his blonde hair, pushing it back from his eyes. How long had it been since he had been regularly approached over his sisters? How many times had it happened? And yet it always felt strange, being treated as their guardian. It should have been Peter's father being asked and it never would be.

"Of course, Caspian. Sit down. How are you feeling?" Peter asked as Caspian walked up to his desk and chose to remain standing. The Telmarine King looked better, although everyone was watching him closely. Since they still hadn't figured out how the amphet was being administered to him, it was still possible for him to be slipped some more. Considering the strain on his heart the last time, it was a possibility that needed to be avoided at all costs.

"I am feeling much better," Caspian said, flushing a bit. He was still incredibly humiliated by the experience, although everyone treated it as if it was nothing. "Some residual shakiness is all."

"Cornelius said that might be the case," Peter acknowledged, and then he fell silent. Caspian shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat. Peter raised an eyebrow, pushing aside his internal amusement. As pompous or arrogant or modest they might be, in the end, they always looked exactly the same. And it would start the same way, with roundabout small talk, compliments to himself, and eventually they would work up the nerve to ask. But fortunately for Caspian, unlike all but one other, he decided to go straight to the point.

"I have come to ask your permission to court your royal sister, the Queen Susan." Caspian spurted out, then he flushed. "My High King," he added respectfully. Peter continued to sit back, watching him. Caspian stood beneath his gaze, growing even more uncomfortable. Seeing that Caspian had said all he was going to say, Peter nodded, as if considering it.

"Does Su know you are asking?"

Caspian nodded, a touch too eagerly. "Aye. In fact, she requested I speak to you."

Peter's eyebrow rose pointedly. "I assume then that there was need for a more formal arrangement?"

If Caspian had been unsettled before, the realization of what Peter was implying made the young king go crimson as he sputtered a reply.

"I… there has been no need… I would never…" Halfway through his denial, Caspian seemed to slump, his voice raw and honest. "I love her, Peter. I have attempted to contain that as long as I could, but if her feelings are at all similar to mine, then I would be a fool not to try for her hand. Having received her blessing, I beg you for yours."

Peter pursed his lips, and then he stood up, walking away from his desk. Behind them was a tall stained glass window, where one could see down into a courtyard. Peter watched as the palace gardeners worked at trimming the shrubs, his littlest sister Lucy moving amongst them offering smiles and words of encouragement.

"Do you know how many have asked me the same thing that you are asking?" Peter finally said, his arms crossed and his back to his friend.

"If the books are accurate, then more than for any other queen in Narnian history," Caspian acknowledged.

"Suitors came and went," Peter spoke as if remembering far ago, which he was. "But only the most determined asked permission to court her. Kings, princes, and diplomats… plus one very determined giant." Caspian blinked at that, not sure what to say.

"It is a much more formal affair, courting, considering that it allowed further access to the queen then simply being in her attendance." Peter still didn't turn around, but he didn't have to, to know that wasn't something Caspian wanted to hear. True, the Telmarine king had taken some liberties with the Queen, but it filled him with indignation that any other man might seek the same thing. Peter continued on.

"They never asked Su, you know?" He shook his head. "They just threw gifts and flowers and perfume at her feet and marched in here, assuming that was all it took. That rank hath privilege, and one of those privileges was her. In my time of being High King in Narnia, I was asked this question forty three times."

Caspian's mouth opened then closed.

"Do you know how many times I said yes?" Peter turned around and gave Caspian an almost sad look. "Only once."

Caspian stood silently for a long time, looking to the side and thinking that over. Finally he raised his eyes to meet Peter's gaze. "What was the difference for that one?"

"Are you sure you want to know?" The High King asked softly. Caspian steeled himself and nodded, wondering if this was where he would be found wanting.

"Yes."

"It was because Su loved him back. And that is the only reason."

There was not much to say to that, and it was pointless for Caspian to be jealous of a man dead and gone for thirteen hundred years. Not that he liked it…

"I do not understand," Caspian said after a time. "If it was so, then why did the Queen never marry? Why did she never officially choose her suitor?"

"That's not my story to tell," Peter said, a bit gruffly. "But when it was all over, she never loved another. And I never said yes again."

"Then I am asking needlessly," Caspian couldn't keep the frustration out of his voice, or the glimmer of doubt in his heart. "You will not give your blessing."

"I didn't say that, Caspian."

"You did not say otherwise, either."

"True."

"You are playing games, and I do not appreciate it," Caspian said quietly, drawing himself up. "I came here simply, so I request a simple answer. Do I have your permission?"

"You are my friend," Peter said frankly. "But that doesn't necessarily make you good enough. You are my comrade, and I would trust you with my life. But when it comes to Su? My sister? You have only known her a few months, Caspian. You say you love her, but why? Because she is pretty? There are other pretty girls. No, I think it is because you have come to depend upon her. I think that as much as you say you love her, I think that you _need_ her."

"Need, Peter? If you are implying desire…"

"No!" Peter rounded on him, looking almost angry. "No, Caspian, I'm implying much more than that! You are King but you act most days as if you don't want it. You can be completely swayed in your decisions simply by her approval or disapproval. You need her advice and her support, and if you don't have it you walk around like a wounded puppy. You are completely distracted by her, when you should be focused on the mess that is Narnia. You were poisoned, Caspian! You almost died, and the attempt was aimed at getting your country, _my_ country, into a war with Galma. But you do not care, all you can think about is Susan! This is not a time of peace, and it is not a time of fancy, so if the reason you want the queen is because you need her these ways, then I'm not sure you are the right one for her in the first place."

Peter sucked in a tight breath, his chest heaving from his emotions. "I will not agree just to have your love for her fade as the problems of your monarchy do. I will _not_ do that to her."

Caspian's jaw was clenched, and it was obvious he was fighting back his angry retort.

"Is it that you think I lack as a monarch or that I lack as a suitor, or both?" Caspian managed to get out, finding himself so furious that he was shaking.

"I think that you have not become the king you could be, nor the king you should be," Peter said flatly. "And your preoccupation with my sister is part of the reason why."

"I had not realized your opinion of me was so low, that you doubted me so much." It was obvious through his anger that Caspian was quite hurt. Peter walked around his desk, standing in front of his friend.

"It is not _you _that I doubt, Caspian. But your actions so far have centered around placating the council and Susan, and that is not good enough. You are the King of Narnia, but when is the last time you turned to your Narnian subjects for anything? You focus only on what is in front of you, but you cannot rule that way. You have to look at everything, beyond what you fear and what you love the most."

Caspian said nothing, but his face was drawn from the accusations. Peter sighed and shook his head.

"You are my friend, Caspian, and I don't say these things to hurt you." Peter meant it, he hated the wedge this was driving between them, but as High King it had to be done. "But if you want Susan, if you want _Narnia_, you have to open your eyes. I didn't fight Miraz because you deserved your throne. I fought Miraz because my people deserve a country and a king that takes care of them. _They_ must be your first priority, over anything else. Do you see?"

"Aye," Caspian grunted. Then he stiffly drew himself up. "Are we through?"

"Yes, we're done," Peter nodded, his eyes sad as he watched Caspian turn and stride angrily for the door. Just as he reached it, Peter called out. "And Caspian..."

The Telmarine king paused at the open door.

"The answer is yes. Don't make me regret it." The door to Peter's study shut without a word from the other man. Groaning, Peter sat back down, rubbing his temples, whispering to himself. "Don't make me take this all away from you, my friend."

Then, being the High King before anything else, he went back to work.

* * *

Edmund's feet hurt.

It wasn't something that he couldn't deal with, but it was something that he wished he didn't _have_ to deal with. It wasn't his feet's fault that they hurt. Their owner had insisted on using them overmuch in the last few days, and being feet it wasn't as if they could tell him no. But the dull ache that spread from toe to heel was their token protest, and there was nothing that Edmund could do about that. His horse had been set free, because it was unkind to force it to hobble along. The other horse was carrying a double amount of their supplies, so it was similarly unkind to make it carry himself, the Dwarf, and the Mouse (Edmund had never considered asking the Wolf if he wished to ride, because the King was not silly and liked his hide in one piece.). So they all walked.

Up ahead the twin mountains loomed larger and larger with each step they took. The closer they got the more Edmund seemed to pull inside himself. Both Trumpkin and Reepicheep understood why, although not nearly on the level as the Narnians of thirteen hundred years ago would have. In a lifetime of King of Narnia, Edmund could count on one hand how many times he had ventured this close to the remains of the White Witch's castle. In those days, no one went there if they didn't have to, and in those days there were no reasons to. Aslan had defeated the White Witch, and that was that. A redeemed traitor has no desire to see the depths to which he once fell, and Edmund was no different.

There was a point in time where the Wolf suddenly appeared ahead of them. He sat down in the middle of the trail and waited for them to approach.

"Hallo Maugrim," Edmund said with forced brightness. "Nice of you to show." Even he hadn't seen the Wolf in nearly a day, not even a glimpse.

"It is time that I left you, pup king," Maugrim said bluntly. Reepicheep snorted.

"Ha! As if you have been around so far, sir," the Mouse declared. He had been quite offended by the Wolf's refusal to keep their company, as any true companion should do. Maugrim ignored him, focusing on Edmund.

"Why is that?" Ed asked.

"Because we draw near to the Town. I will not travel through this place with you, for it is unlikely that you will make it to the other side."

"That's good of you," Trumpkin muttered, not surprised. The Wolf rose, unconcerned.

"I agreed to help track the Bad thing, and nothing more. If you cannot survive the Town, then it is not my duty to die alongside you. Should you make it through, I will meet you on the other side. The Bad thing goes through the Town and into the castle of She Who We Once Followed."

"Can't even say her name, can you ruffian?" Reepicheep admonished, even as Edmund shushed him.

"A Title is the greatest thing a Creature can have," Maugrim said shortly. "But not all that have them deserve them." Reepicheep opened his mouth to counter, but Edmund interceded.

"Hold on," he said, holding up his hand. "What town is it that you are talking about? There's no town in these parts."

"The Town lies perpetually in the shadow of Her castle," Maugrim explained, looking vaguely annoyed at having to do so. "Did you believe that the world would not change in your absence, pup king? We will meet again, should you survive. A Wolf always keeps his word." With that he turned and left, not once looking back.

"Well, that was brief and to the point," Edmund stated ruefully, watching their guide once more disappear. "He didn't even tell us the best path to go, like before."

"We don't need him to," Trumpkin said in his gruff voice, his eyes on the mountains that hovered above them, shadows darkening them malevolently even though the sun was still high in the sky.

"It is unfortunate that we have yet to meet a Giant," Reepicheep sighed forlornly as they continued on. "Ah well, I shall just have to find satisfaction with the Beast."

"He is serious, isn't he?" Edmund muttered to Trumpkin. As before, the Dwarf knew better than to say anything.

* * *

"You are angry."

Caspian hadn't realized that Susan was there until she appeared at his shoulder. His focus was across the lawn, watching General Tenneth as he ran through a drill with his officers.

"It is that obvious?" Caspian said sarcastically. In truth, he had been in such a foul mood that day that everyone was stepping lightly around him. But his tone was too harsh and at the slightly hurt silence that followed, Caspian sighed.

"I am sorry. I was told some things today that I did not like hearing."

"Peter?" she guessed intuitively.

"Yes."

"I take it you spoke with him," Susan gave Caspian a rueful smile. "Perhaps I should have warned you that no one ever gets his permission. I will speak with him myself."

"Nay, my queen. The High King gave his blessing… albeit reluctantly." Caspian finally looked over at her. Susan seemed surprised.

"Then why are you upset?" she wondered. Caspian just shook his head, not ready to speak about it. Instead he changed the subject.

"Why did you never choose a suitor?" he asked suddenly, dark eyes drilling into her. "All those years, and you never chose one to marry."

"Did Peter say that too?" Susan asked quietly.

"Peter said many things," Caspian couldn't keep the bitterness from his tone. Susan opened her mouth, but then closed it, thinking about her reply. Before she had a chance to say anything, her lady in waiting Mari hesitantly approached.

"My lady?" Mari asked uncertainly, curtseying deeply to both monarchs. "I was told to find you when it was time for the fittings."

"Yes, Mari," Susan looked relieved at the distraction. "I will be right there." The Telmarine woman curtseyed again and quickly backed away, glancing nervously at Caspian as she did.

"She acts scared of me," Caspian said wryly to Susan as the young woman hurried out of earshot.

"Mari is overly gentle," Susan told him with a shrug. Then she smiled and leaned over, giving him a tiny kiss on the cheek, much to his surprised pleasure. They _were_ in public after all. "Please don't be unhappy, Caspian. We will talk later."

Caspian watched her pick up her skirts and sweep away, joining the other woman as if they were old friends and completely unconcerned with the Centaur and Mouse guard that surrounded her. As he turned back to the drills, Caspian found that it was hard to be quite as angry as before.

"Your timing is impeccable," Susan murmured to Mari as the two of them made their way from the still watching King.

"My lady?" Mari seemed confused. "But I interrupted you with his Majesty."

"Even cute boys need to be interrupted sometimes," Susan said with a tiny smile. Mari giggled before remembering herself.

"You know, you don't need to be afraid of Caspian," Susan continued as they turned down a hall. "He might be the King, but he's not like the ones before him. True Kings and Queens of Narnia are not dictators like Miraz was. We are here to care for and protect the people, and to help guide them. We make the tough decisions so they don't have to. As a Narnian, by tradition, you have the right to speak your mind to even the High King."

"Oh, I could never do that, your Majesty," Mari looked shocked at the very thought.

"I would rather you offend then never know what you really thought about things," Susan countered. "One can't rule a kingdom by _assuming_ they know what their people want and need. What we can't see we have to be told."

Mari was silent for a long moment, but then she looked over at Susan. She still looked worried but there was a touch of hope in her eyes.

"If it would truly not offend…"

"If it does, then there are worse things," Susan teased her with a tiny grin. Mari flushed prettily.

"Then if I would not be considered too bold to say it, there are some people your Majesty might wish to speak to. Or who would like to speak to you, if they may."

Susan raised an eyebrow. "Are these Telmarine Narnians?"

"Yes, my lady. If it pleases you."

"Then why don't you bring them to the castle this afternoon," Susan said with a smile as they reached the great staircase. "In the meantime, have you seen Mrs. Badger? She was supposed to be meeting us, and she takes these things so seriously..."

They continued to talk as they descended, oblivious to the eyes that watched their every move.

* * *

The thing about castles built on sheer cliffs, there is usually only one source of water in, and one source of water out.

That's not a very good idea.

* * *

The Warthog looked quite sad when Lucy happened upon it outside the Great Council room. The Council was in session, and four Telmarine guards stood at the door, blocking entrance. The Warthog must have been there for a while, because it had sat down on its grey bristled haunches and was staring forlornly at the door. But when it saw Lucy, it jumped immediately to its hooves, run over to her, and gave its best bow (Which was not very good at all, but a Warthog is not made for such things and should be commended for even trying.).

"Hallo," Lucy said brightly, giving it a bit of a bobbed curtsey in reply. Realizing it was a young Boar, she added, "How are you today, sir?"

"My Queen!" The Boar looked extremely relieved. In fact, he was so relieved that he was snuffling around his words, although Lucy was much too polite to giggle about it. "My Queen, I have very important information that I need to tell King Caspian immediately, but they won't let me in." He added a pointed snort, very wet with derision, although the guards ignored it.

"Well, why would you do that?" Lucy asked of the Telmarines. "He has every right to speak to Caspian if he wants to."

Two of the guards glanced at each other in confusion. One decided to be the leader and spoke up.

"We were under orders not to let any distraction in, your Majesty," he said, shifting uncomfortably at her glare. He glanced at the Warthog, who was glaring. "Especially not any of… that kind of distraction."

"I don't know what you mean, sir," Lucy said, although she had an inkling. Deciding not to blame a man for only doing as he was told, she put her little hands on her hips and faced them authoritatively. "Who gave you such an order? Certainly not Caspian."

"No, my lady." The second guard spoke up, coming to the aid of the first. "It was the Lord Baerd that gave the order."

"From now on, you will ignore such silliness and allow any Narnian, Telmarine or Old, entrance to see the Kings or Queens. If we can't talk right then, we will tell you, but that's up to us. Now, let him through."

No one moved, except for the first guard who gulped. This was really not part of his job description, trying to decide who outranked who. Thankfully, Lucy cleared it up for him.

"As Queen of Narnia, I am ordering you to let us through. Please." Lucy couldn't help but be polite even when she was being bossy, since it was what her mother and Susan had spent so much time drilling into her. She smiled in satisfaction as they parted before her and her smug Boar, holding open the door as they went through. The Boar flicked his tail as he did, making sure the Telmarines noticed. If they did, they did not know what to make of it anymore than they did a talking Warthog.

Being that Caspian was sitting facing the door, he noticed immediately when Lucy walked in, the Warthog at her heels.

"Lu?" he seemed surprised, sitting up straighter. Lucy never came into council, unless requested. "Is everything alright?"

In the middle of the council room floor, Lord Baerd paused midsentence. He had been making a very important point, at least according to him, and the appearance of the youngest monarch completely botched his verbal momentum. As did the loud snuff of the Warthog behind her.

"One of your subjects has need of your attention, your Majesty," Lucy said with a smile, ignoring Baerd as she went to Caspian and impulsively gave him a tight hug. He returned it, a bit bemused. The Boar tried to bow again as Lu decided to sit with Caspian on his large throne. Plopping down next to him, Lucy wiggled until he scooted over to make room, shaking his head. She had such a way of ignoring convention, along with ignoring the shocked expressions of the rest of the room.

"Your Majesty…" the Boar started, only to be interrupted by an irate Lord Baerd.

"This is ridiculous!" Baerd declared. "We were in the middle of a very important discussion on Telmarine policy. This Animal has no place in the council room!"

"He has just as much right to be heard as you do, sir," Lucy said. "He should never have been kept waiting."

"This was a closed session," he retorted. "I ordered that no one be let in."

"Are you a Queen of Narnia, my Lord Baerd?" Lucy asked sweetly. Caspian coughed into his hand, hiding a smirk.

"What? No, of course not…"

"Well, until you become a Queen of Narnia, then I outrank you." She pursed her lips, and then looked up at Caspian. "I don't understand why everyone forgets this so often."

Caspian chuckled and put his arm around Lucy's shoulders. Baerd flushed but had the grace to stomp over to his seat.

"It is because we are far less wise than you, my dear Queen Lucy," he told her with a smile. She just hmph'ed as if that was very true.

"Surely your Majesty does not agree with this nonsense," Lord Scythley asked in a derisive manner. "Or do little children, along with women, make the King's decisions for him?"

It should be said that if given such an insult alone, Caspian would have probably ignored it, no matter how much it irritated him. After all, putting up with these lords and their double sided comments had become a daily routine (one he much hated, if someone asked), and they were easier to deal with if he remained cool and collected. However he wasn't alone, and Lu's shoulders stiffened at the insult to him, which Caspian mistook as her own feelings being hurt.

"General Tenneth," Caspian said suddenly, not changing his position as he stared at Scythley with narrowed eyes.

"My King?" from the corner Tenneth stepped forward.

"I want you to go to the kennels and find a muzzle for Lord Scythley." Caspian said this while never breaking eye contact with the lord. "His yapping is growing tiresome."

"You cannot be serious!" Scythley was on his feet, yelling in outrage, but Caspian never even flinched.

"The lord can stay in council this day only if he is muzzled, or else he needs to be removed, General. Thank you."

Tenneth's face split into a rare grin as he headed for the door, ostensibly to do as Caspian commanded. Scythley started to sputter something but Caspian cut him off.

"Before you speak, pick your words wisely," he suggested softly, letting his gaze move pointedly over all the assembled nobles. "For though the rage caused by my poisoning has diminished, it has not disappeared completely. I cannot be held accountable for what I might choose to do on a whim, especially if I feel like the queen's person has been insulted."

"Is that true?" Lucy whispered almost inaudibly to him in concern. But Caspian only winked at her, which made her feel better. The nobles however missed the exchange and shifted uncomfortably. As Tenneth continued to the door, smirking maliciously, Lord Scythley decided to storm out of the council room on his own accord. Lucy privately thought that it was because he didn't know if Caspian was serious about the muzzle or not. The general certainly was. Perhaps Caspian was starting to get control of these men? If he was, it was about time.

"Your Majesty," Lord Donnon decided to try and smooth things over, his voice silky as he spoke. "I am sure no direct insult was intended by Lord Scythley. Considering the slew of recent events, it has been a trying time for us all."

"Indeed," Caspian said drolly. "Considering the failure of the plot to discredit the monarchy and establish war between Galma and myself, I am sure the council is quite harried."

"Your Majesty could not possibly believe that any one of his loyal subjects in this room would have attempted to poison him," Donnon seemed shocked, to which Caspian actually laughed. Lucy decided that he was in an odd humor today, but a good one. If anything, beneath his irritation with the council, Caspian seemed happier than normal. This was nothing like that night when his oddness had been scary.

"Do not play coy, my lord," Caspian suggested lightly. "It does not suit you. I would like to remind the council that the King is not quite the love struck fool they have all taken him for. So if it is a change in leadership that is so greatly desired, those who desire it might have better luck with a more direct approach to the matter."

"We didn't work so hard to put Caspian on the throne just to have you all drag him back off," Lucy piped up, sounding much older than she was. "I certainly don't think Peter would like it. Now, we have to speak with someone, and since everyone is just bickering with each other, I think that the good Boar has waited long enough."

This whole time, the Warthog had been listening and watching the activities of the humans. If anyone was to look at a Warthog, they would probably assume they were uncouth and roughened Beasts. However, out of the whole of Narnian Creatures, they were some of the sweetest and gentlest. Therefore the air of malice in the council room had made the poor Boar quite uncomfortable, and he had been cowering in the center of the floor until Lucy spoke up. He stared up at her with tiny grateful eyes.

"A chi—a queen cannot dismiss the council!" Baerd spoke up, but Caspian just smirked, his arm still around Lucy's shoulders.

"I think she already did, my lord. And I agree, these daily talks are getting us nowhere and they take up too much of my time. This council is concluded. I apologize, sir Boar, that you had to wait." At his words, Caspian bowed his head a touch in respect. The action was not lost upon the council, to whom the King gave no such tendencies. Muttering and angry, but unable to do anything else, they filtered out of the room. Tenneth looked a bit disappointed as he slipped back inside and took his normal position.

Caspian sighed as they were left alone, and shook his head. He wrapped his second arm around Lucy and gave her a bear hug.

"Lu, why do you insist on placing yourself against those men?" he asked her with brotherly concern. Only unlike her real brothers, he didn't tell her not to do the things that concerned him. "They are not all good, and it is not good for you."

"You have to put up with them," Lucy said stubbornly, burrowing into his chest. "And since we are family, I have to as well." Then she giggled.

"What?" he asked her, raising an eyebrow at her knowing expression.

"When you're my real brother, you can make it up to me by teasing Edmund. He deserves it." Obviously she knew that Caspian was officially courting Su. He laughed, not knowing why he should be surprised.

"How is it that you know everything that happens around here?" Caspian asked her as the little queen squeezed out from under his arm.

"Because I listen." Lucy glanced at the still patiently waiting Warthog. "Perhaps you should too."

And with that Lucy bobbed out of the council room, leaving Caspian alone with the Boar. Caspian watched her go with a fond smile on his face, then he turned to the Narnian.

"How may I be of service?" he asked of the Warthog. The Boar shifted nervously, still a bit uncomfortable being left alone with the King. Caspian picked up on it and he stood up, stepping down from his throne and seating himself on the top step of the dais. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

"I am sorry they would not let you in," Caspian apologized. "I will speak with the guards about it."

"Your Majesty," the Boar snuffled a few times around the words. "We have been trying to see you for several days now, ever since the tournament."

Caspian tipped his head sideways, confused. "I was not told of this, not even after I had recovered."

"We are starting to feel as if the Telmarines are trying to keep us from our King, sire." The Warthog dipped his head, as if he had said something that would make Caspian angry. In fact it did, but not in the way he thought.

"The Telmarines in general, or specific ones?" Caspian questioned. At the Boar's reluctance, he added, "You need not fear. If it is true, I will protect your identity."

The Boar snorted. "_I'm_ not scared of any Telmarines, sire. But I do worry about some of the others. The Bunnies, especially, have not been treated well. They get bullied mercilessly by the kitchen staff, and even are _threatened_ by the head cook, if you know what I mean. Horrible!"

"That is… that is truly awful," Caspian managed to say, because really, it was. "I had known that there were still problems between the two, but I would never have thought my countrymen capable of insinuating such things!"

"Insinuating?" The Boar snuffed and wheezed in his indignation. "I don't know about that, but the way they make them hop about carrying trays every time something has to be delivered all the way up the towers, why it's unconscionable. And the head cook threatens to make it permanent." The Warthog didn't understand why the King suddenly looked so relieved, even to the point of exhaling loudly. Tenneth coughed. "And in answer of your question, it is the palace staff that seems to be placing themselves in our way, every time we want to speak with you."

"All of them or just the guards?"

"All of them, sire. Or at least select few that have the capability."

"Hmmmm. What is this news that you have wanted so badly to tell me?"

The Warthog looked about the room nervously, as if uncomfortable speaking before the general.

"It is alright friend," Caspian assured him. "You may safely speak up."

Still the Boar trotted forward a few steps so that he was almost in Caspian's lap. His tusks almost brushed the King's knee as he leaned in and whispered.

"We think we have found how you were poisoned, your Majesty."

"How?" Caspian demanded, sitting straighter. "Please tell me."

"I think that I had better show you," the Warthog decided.

"Show me? Why?" A chill went through the King as his subject continued in an almost silent breath.

"Because your Majesty needs to know, they tried to poison you again these last two afternoons."

* * *

Peter was reclining in the Queens' sitting room and enjoying a few minutes of relaxation with his sister, listening as she talked about the current progress at Aslan's How. Su hadn't brought up his conversation with Caspian this morning, but he was pretty sure by the slightly smug expression on her face that she knew of his approval. Had she known the rest of it, he would be getting an earful right now. Throughout their lives together, he was the one person Susan seemed to have no problem telling exactly what she thought of his behavior. Therefore he took full advantage of the times where she was pleased with him, especially where it concerned herself.

"Peter? What do you think?"

"Hmmm?" He pulled out of his thoughts and crossed his arms behind his head. "Oh. I think that you're right. Things are much quicker with the help of Wimbleweather, but it's too bad we have so few Giants. So many of the other Creatures have joined our side… I had hoped that we might be able to have a completely united Narnia."

Susan snorted, only half focusing on the bow in her lap that she was cleaning.

"Considering that Telmarine and Old Narnian relations are still so strained?" she shook her head. "The only thing that brought the darker Creatures together with the others was their common hatred of Telmarine rule. As it is, it seems like only the Minotaurs, Black Dwarves, and the ice Cats completely switched sides. There were only a handful of Wolves that fought at Beruna, and no other Giant but Wimbleweather."

"I suppose I should be grateful not to have led an army of Hags and Werewolves," Peter murmured. "I wouldn't fancy having that lot at my back. But it doesn't change the fact that they are Narnians too. You can't pick who you're King over."

Susan shuddered. "Well, I for one would be just fine not being Queen over the Bats and the Boggles."

"You never said anything about the Incubi, Su," Peter teased, causing his sister to blush and throw her cleaning rag at him.

"Oh shut up! Will I never live that down?" she asked plaintively. "Nothing even _happened_! And it's not like anyone warned me."

"Suuure." He grinned at her outraged expression, but then quickly returned to his more serious thoughts. "But anyway, I still wish that we would have made better progress in thirteen hundred years."

"It wasn't thirteen hundred years of peace, Peter. We should be grateful that any Narnians are even still alive after what the Telmarines did." Susan's face pursed into a frown. "I take that back. After what the Telmarine _rulers_ did. It's not the commoners' fault."

"You say that as if you're forcing yourself to believe it," Peter commented blandly. "I take it you've heard what even the early peasants did if they caught a Narnian."

"Heard and trying to forget," Susan said softly. "I'm really trying to keep an open mind, but it's hard."

"I accused Caspian today of only paying attention to the Telmarine council," Peter told her quietly. "And with the exception of a few other things, it is true. But every time I find myself sitting in that council room surrounded by all those calculating, self important, indulgent hypocrites, it makes me want to grab up all the Narnians and head for the hills, figuratively. Or Cair Paravel, literally."

"Caspian loves all the Narnians, the Old and the New," Susan said stubbornly. "But that doesn't mean that he knows how to effectively deal with both. His whole life he has lived in this world, the one where only Telmarines existed and mattered. They demand much of him. Similarly the Old Narnians demand much of you, even when your focus should be on the Telmarines."

"Ugh!" Peter threw up his hands. "This used to be so much easier."

"Well, we were older then," Susan shrugged. "And wiser. I feel like half a person now, or maybe two. I get confused when I realize the Old Susan, the adult one, is still inside my head. And she doesn't always agree with the current one."

"They have names for folks with more than one person upstairs," Peter chuckled and Susan, in a rare moment of childishness, stuck her tongue out at him. Peter couldn't help laughing.

"Are you saying you don't feel the same way?" she asked curiously, not really minding that he was poking fun at her. The High King shrugged.

"Maybe. Only I'm not fighting with myself, I'm just wishing that all the stuff I used to know was accessible in here." He tapped his head pointedly. "It's floating around where I can't grab it."

"You're doing fine, Peter," Susan reached over and squeezed his hand reassuringly. Then she looked serious. "Sometimes I wonder what would happen if you weren't here holding everything together."

"Then Caspian would _have_ to figure it all out, and stop spending so much time ogling my sister." It came out a bit flatter than intended, and Susan smirked at him. She didn't have a chance to reply, because a soft knock on the door interrupted them. It was Mari. The lady in waiting curtseyed deeply to the High King, then Susan.

"Your Majesties," she murmured. "Should I come back later?"

"No, Lady Mari," Peter said with a touch of a flirtatious smile as he drug himself up to a sitting position. "Your arrival simply means that my old bones have to go back to work. I'm sure in the last hour that thirty things of dire consequence have bound to have gone wrong."

"Old, your Majesty?" Mari looked confused. "But the High King is nothing but youthful…"

Peter grinned and gave her a wink, leaving her even more confused and blushing furiously.

"Be nice, Peter," Susan admonished as he disappeared out the door, looking anything but remorseful. "Ignore him Mari, he can be a hopeless tease when he's in a good mood."

"The High King is pleased today?" Mari asked shyly, still unused to speaking so freely with her monarchs.

"He leaves for the How tomorrow for three days, so Peter's ecstatic. I however…" Susan groaned. Then she steeled herself. "Alright. I assume you have brought these men that I needed to speak with?"

"Aye, my lady."

"Send them in."

It was a few hours later that Lucy burst into the room, a letter clutched tightly in her little hand.

"Susan! I have good news!"

Lucy's sister was sitting quietly in front of their fireplace, staring off into the cold ashes. She hadn't even looked up when Lucy opened the door.

"Susan?"

"Hmmm?" Su looked up, seeming to come to herself. "What was that, Lu?"

"You look as if you have seen a ghost." Lucy laughed a bit at that, but Susan only gave her a strained smile.

"Don't you mean a Ghost?" Susan asked, giving a pale attempt at a joke. Lucy tipped her head to the side.

"Do we have those here in Narnia?" she asked, thinking about it.

"Considering how many have died before their times? Yes, I bet we do."

"Well, I don't think I want to think about that," Lucy decided, then her enthusiasm bubbled right back up to the surface. "Anyway, I have good news! I have a letter from Edmund. He says he's alright, although where he's going he won't be able to write again soon…"

Lucy continued on, and in her excitement, she never asked what Susan was thinking so hard about. It was better that way.

* * *

_"I don't think your plan is working."_

_"Be easy. These things take time."_

_"And what if he dies before we are done?"_

_"Then it was never meant to be in the first place. It won't change the plan."_

_"No?"_

_"No, because it was never about him."_

_"…I will only wait so long."_

_"And I will wait as long as I have too. That is why I will not fail."_

_"If you say so." _

* * *

"It was the Bunnies that figured it out."

Caspian stood next to the Warthog, looking across the long expanse of kitchens that fed the increased number of palace occupants. Easily a hundred different people and Creatures hustled about, trying to prepare and deliver food to those that ordered it. Ever since allowing the townspeople entrance into the castle, the kitchen staff had been stretched to its limits, and the Old Narnians had stepped in to help. So it was a sea of olive toned skin, Faun legs, and dwarven beards, all surging around busily. Truly, the only one that wasn't moving was the large figure in the far corner, Alfred the Bulgy Bear. They had all learned that despite how much he wanted to be of help, it just took too much effort to clean his ever sticky paws of honey, and therefore he couldn't touch anything without getting it sticky too. So they had set him in the corner with his own honey pot and told him to 'keep an eye on things'. He did it very well.

"The Bunnies run the food?" Caspian asked, trying to find them in the crowd. Every so often he would catch a floppy ear appear and disappear quickly.

"Almost always," the Boar stated. "They aren't used to these different spices that the Telmarines use in their cooking, so it took them a while to realize that some of the dishes had a distinct odor to them."

"The dishes that came to me?" Caspian shook his head. "But I do not understand. I usually take my meals with the other Kings and Queens. Lucy steals off my plate regularly. How is it that they were unaffected?"

"Was there any time that you were not always taking your meals with them?" the Boar asked. Caspian thought back, then sighed.

"Yes, when… when I felt Queen Susan was displeased with me. The trouble started about then, didn't it? But after that I was eating almost every meal with them."

"Almost? If your Majesty was only eating alone very infrequently, then it makes sense that the last dose of amphet was delivered in such quantity. Perhaps they tried to make the most of the opportunity."

"Perhaps." Caspian stared out at the kitchen, wondering if this feeling of distrust in his own people would ever go away. He had not imagined this kind of thing, never when he had fought for his throne. He had thought that they would have _wanted_ him as their king, instead of Miraz. Obviously not.

"Oh, please don't believe that, sire," the Boar begged. Caspian hadn't realized he'd spoken his thought aloud. "From what I've heard most of the townsfolk are much happier than they used to be. They still don't trust us completely yet, nor our kings and queens, but they are losing their anger about the battle at Beruna. It just takes time. It is someone else that is trying to make things go badly for you."

"Do the Bunnies know who poisoned my food?"

"No, my king. There are too many people in the kitchens at all times. Dishes pass hands constantly. They have found out that others in the castle have experienced similar effects as you had. Not all the plates are making it where they are intended."

"But enough of them did," Caspian said grimly. "And if the other monarchs didn't get sick along with me, then it means that someone has been watching my schedule very closely."

"What would you have us do, sire?" the Boar asked humbly. "It has been near impossible to keep track in here, even though we have secretly tried. It has been kept so secret that they picked me to tell you. No one in the kitchens knows me, for I usually help out in the town with rebuilding."

"Have most of the homes been finished?" Caspian asked. The Warthog nodded. "Good. I'll make an announcement that those who can should return to the city. That should empty out extras here. Please tell the others to keep me informed if they smell anything unusual. And for love of Aslan, please don't let anything bad reach the queens' mouths."

"Understood, sire."

"This is distressing…" Caspian said softly. "Someone close to us has been causing this."

The Boar said nothing, for there was nothing to say. He did however manage to look sad. Warthogs are such sweet and gentle Creatures.

* * *

"If I didn't know any better, I would say we were slowing deliberately." Trumpkin glanced at his king with wise eyes as they topped one hill and found themselves facing another. "And I'd say that it doesn't have much to do with the Wolf."

"Then it's good that you don't know any better," Edmund replied, giving Trumpkin a rueful look. Then he sighed. "Is it so bad that I don't particularly want to go there?"

"Most decent folk avoid this area at all costs," the Dwarf commented. "It is not strange that you would be one of them. Bad things happen in the shadows of the White Witch's castle… things that even I would rather not have seen."

"You've been here before then?" Edmund looked up sharply. "When?"

"When I was much younger and much more the fool," Trumpkin said. "And if it was not you that I followed, I would surely not be going back. It was in the Town that I met Nikabrik, and he was the purest thing there. There are some things that the Wolf did not warn you about."

"Such as?"

"Such as the true purpose of the Town." Trumpkin grew quiet, even though he had started the conversation.

"Dragging it out isn't going to make it sound any better," Edmund reminded him. "Isn't it best to just know? It can't be any worse than the White Witch was herself."

"Sometimes I forget that you actually knew her," the Dwarf admitted.

"I never forget," Edmund said simply. "It's made me a better person all around. Now what is it that I need to know?"

"It is this. The Town didn't exist until a few hundred years ago. Up until that point, fear kept even the darker Creatures at bay. They had failed their queen and they were afraid of her wrath should she return. But eventually the fear faded, and as the Telmarines drove our people into near extinction, some of the old believers returned here. They wanted to bring her back, although they needed a Son of Adam to do it, which they didn't have."

"Hence where Caspian and Pete came in," Edmund nodded, understanding. "But why didn't they just swipe one of the Telmarines? Their blood followed the same lines."

"Far as I know, and mostly from what Nikabrik told me, most of the darker magic was lost during the Golden Age of Narnia, and even more was lost as we were all killed. It took a long time to remember how things were done back then, and a lot of the more powerful Witches and Hags and others died in the learning. The two that approached Caspian were of the greatest power."

"Small blessings that they were slain," Reepicheep said from next to Trumpkin. Neither the human nor the Dwarf disagreed.

"So they all gathered together near the White Witch's castle?" Edmund questioned. The Dwarf nodded, lowering his head as the trudged up the next hill.

"And their numbers grew. They still fear the castle, but the Town is the heart of their beliefs. It is a very dangerous place," Trumpkin sounded worried as he spoke. "It is not a place we should be going."

"We don't have much of a choice," Edmund shrugged as if it did not concern him. "Do not listen to the Wolf, my friends. We will be fine, Aslan is with us."

Edmund reached over and gripped Trumpkin's shoulder reassuringly. Then he paused as they topped the hill. Below them spread a valley, an arm of the Great River snaking through its center. At the far end of the valley reared the sharp spires of a castle, its pale stone walls stark and cold even without the covering of ice. Beneath, nestled within the castle's ever present shadow laid the darkest town Edmund had ever seen.

"I certainly hope so," Trumpkin muttered. "Because where we're going, we're going to need him."

* * *

Caspian found Susan in the last place he had expected her to be. She was sitting on a small wooden stool in the back of the armory, a gleaming Telmarine blade lying naked on her lap. Her head was bowed and she seemed deep in thought.

"My lady?" Caspian asked quietly, pulling her out of her reverie. Susan looked up at him.

"Oh. Hallo, Caspian."

"What are you doing down here?" he asked curiously, moving to lean against a rack of shields before her.

"Thinking," she said with a touch of a wry smile.

"May I ask as to what? I have never seen you with a sword before."

"That's because I do not like them," Susan replied, running a finger down the length of the blade. "A bow and arrow can string a rope across a gorge, or knock an apple from the highest branch, or fell an injured beast. But swords are made for one thing only, to kill others."

"I do not see it that way," Caspian told her softly. "May I?" He stepped forward and extended his hand. Susan nodded, passing him the sword. Caspian grasped the hilt, hefting it once or twice to get the feel of it, and then began to twirl it about in a series of forms taught to all skilled swordsmen.

"How do you see it?" she asked, raising an eyebrow but not feeling uncomfortable at all with his actions. Caspian had wielded a blade much closer to her than this, each movement slicing skin and bone instead of air, and with a much deadlier purpose than perfecting form.

"I see it as an extension of myself. What I cannot reach, my sword reaches for me. When I seek to protect, my sword aids me. When I am sharp, it is sharper still, and can cut through my trials."

"And what of the blood it sheds?" Susan asked. "Is that an extension of you as well?"

Caspian lowered the blade, letting the flat of it rest against his palm.

"The blood on my hands is my own," Caspian said quietly. "And even after the heat of battle, I remember every drop." He passed it back to her, and once more Susan placed it on her lap.

"There is something to be said for distance between yourself and your foes," Susan admitted, looking unhappy. "To not ever actually feel the life you take slip away."

Caspian moved and knelt before her. "What is wrong, my queen?" he asked her gently. "You seem distraught."

"You asked me earlier why I never chose a suitor," Susan said, looking down at the sword. "This is why."

Caspian didn't understand, so he remained quiet to let her explain.

"If I never chose one, I could never slight the others," she said softly. "Then there was no excuse for the greater nations to take offense. Every so often it would happen anyway, but on the whole, relations would stay better if there was always the chance that a match could happen."

"I see," he said. And he did. Susan's face scrunched up as she continued.

"But it is not true, what the histories say. I did choose a suitor, once. He was… he was a friend of Edmund's. And I cared for him even though it was not perhaps the wisest thing to do."

Caspian felt a surge of jealousy but shoved it aside.

"They killed him. I don't know who did it, even though Ed and Pete took the country apart trying to find out. But they came upon him in the streets, drug him into an alley, and murdered him." There were unshed tears in Susan's eyes. "All because of politics. He was a good man, and deserved better. So I never did choose another, nor allowed for any suitor to court me, no matter how shallow the attempt."

Caspian took Susan's hand, calmly removing the sword from her lap and lying it down by the chair. Then he stood, pulling her to her feet and tugging her closer. Unlike before Peter had given his approval, this time Susan came unhesitatingly into his arms.

"But this is another time," Susan whispered. "There are no others asking for me but you. The danger _has_ to be less." It sounded as if she was trying to convince herself.

"I do not fear being with you," Caspian told her after a moment of quietness. "I only fear being without."

"Sweet words do not change things--" Susan started, sounding exasperated at being handed a line, but he cut her off.

"Do not treat me as if I am any of the others before me," Caspian said firmly. "If it is bluntness you want, instead of softer words, then hear me. Should anyone even try to either take me from you or take you from me, my queen, they will die by my own hand. Just because I remember and regret the blood I shed does not mean I will hesitate a moment to shed it."

Susan pulled back and walked a step away, seeming even more distraught. She faced the map on the wall, nose inches from the Ford at Beruna.

"You are just like all the others, Caspian, if you think like that. That I am a possession to be protected…"

Caspian followed, standing directly behind her. He was so close that his breath touched the back of her neck, his hands on either side of her head, boxing her in.

"Nay, my lady," he spoke quietly in her ear. "You are my comrade, whom I fought alongside. You are my friend, supporting me when I am in need. You are my confidant, when I can speak to no one else, and my advisor, even when I do not always agree. These things are why I will not hesitate to shed blood for you, or over you. But right now you are no man's possession, especially mine."

"I just don't want to lose you," Susan whispered in a pained voice. Caspian made a soothing noise in his throat and kissed her shoulder. "It is frightening to think that I might."

"You speak of more than just death," he acknowledged, wrapping an arm about her waist. "I know you fear leaving but you are here now, with me, and I am glad for it." Susan leaned back against his chest, letting herself benefit from his strength. After a long moment of simply letting him support her, she straightened.

"It will be fine," Susan said determinedly. "Or Aslan would not have allowed his mind to be changed." If there was a tiny hitch to her voice, Caspian did not acknowledge it. However, the King kept a light hold of her even as she turned around in his arms.

"You must think I am silly, thinking and talking like this," Susan said with a bit of an embarrassed expression. Caspian just smiled.

"It is not wrong to have doubts and fears," Caspian told her simply. "It is only wrong to let them control you."

Susan smirked. "Should I bring up the pot and the kettle?" she asked, arching an eyebrow. Caspian looked at her blankly, and she stifled a giggle. "Never mind. Thank you for listening to me, Caspian."

"Is that not one of the duties of a suitor?" he asked playfully, nuzzling her neck. "Having never been one, sometimes I am unsure what is expected."

"Perhaps I can help," Susan replied archly, wrapping her arms around his neck and laughing as his breath tickled her ear.

"It would be appreciated," Caspian murmured before turning so that he captured her mouth with his. Any suggestions that Susan came up with in her mind quickly became forgotten.

* * *

The young man had been paid handsomely for doing what he was doing. Even though he didn't understand the reasoning behind it, he felt as if it was worth it. The coins in his pocket would feed him for a month, even after buying the strange things he had been ordered to get. It had been hard explaining to his girl why he had rubbed these rank smelling roots about his body, but she hadn't complained when he sent her to the market with a purse full of money. So he waited, listening to the eerie drip drip dripping behind him, wondering how much longer it was going to take. This place gave him the creeps.

There was a soft whoosh of air, and the young man started, looking down. The sharp end of a spear extended out of his belly, and he stared at in shock. He was still in shock as he felt himself be yanked backwards, then pushed down. He started to fall, and continued to fall, staring at himself in horror as he bled. He was still falling when he died, or else he might have found the sounds of chanting even more disturbing when he finally hit.

Drip. Drip. _Drip_.


	11. Chapter 11

**The Lost Chronicles of Narnia: The Beast of Witherby**

Chapter Eleven

The High King was escaping.

At least, that's what it felt like to him. Peter had spent the better part of the morning overseeing the loading of wagons that would bring fresh supplies to the workers at Aslan's How. Now that he was finally satisfied with the loads, he was ready to go. He couldn't be happier either, because the least few days in the castle had seemed so oppressive. All Peter wanted to do was get out in the fresh air amongst the people he knew, and do the kind of work that he could see real progress on. One could sit in stuffy rooms deliberating all they wanted, but it didn't give the same feeling of satisfaction as watching the How get rebuilt by his own two hands.

Peter was a touch guilty about leaving, especially since he was taking Lucy with him without explaining why to anyone. But since both Caspian and Susan were still remaining, he figured that between the two of them they could handle just about anything that might come up. Caspian might be wet behind the ears and Su a bleeding heart, but together he had to admit they made a pretty good team.

"Lu, we're ready," Peter called over to his sister, where she stood talking very seriously to a concerned looking Caspian. At his side, Susan looked quite amused at the list of directions Lucy was giving Caspian. He was listening intently, as if afraid to forget a single one, his brows furrowed when he asked for clarification. At Peter's call, Lucy gave both Susan and Caspian a hug before pulling something out of the folds of her skirts. Peter grinned as he walked up to them, realizing what the littlest queen was about to do to the Telmarine.

"Here you go," Lucy said to Caspian, who found himself now holding a scrawny little kitten (or Kitten) in his arms. The kitten looked dubiously at him, as if she didn't really believe he was up to the task, then promptly dug its claws into his arm and went to sleep. Caspian winced.

"Are you sure, Lu?" Caspian wondered, adjusting it uncomfortably. "I am not good with small things. They tend to break."

"Might not want to plan on having kids with this one," Peter muttered to Susan as he gave her a goodbye hug. She was trying to look offended to cover her laughter. Caspian overheard and went pale.

"Does that happen?" he asked worriedly, causing Peter to snort and swing up on his waiting Horse. He pulled Lucy up behind him and grinned.

"Think of it as a test run, mate," he told his friend. "You'll get in a lot less trouble for breaking my sister's kitten then my nephew or niece."

"He's going to break my kitten?" Lucy asked in dismay. "Why didn't anyone tell me that?!" she could be heard exclaiming as they rode out of the palace.

"Well, looks like it's just you and me," Susan said with a grin. Caspian grimaced and held the kitten up in one hand at eye level.

"And this too," he added, sounding quite nervous.

The kitten mewed.

* * *

The Lady Gerdi was dressed in her finest riding apparel, and would have looked quite fetching if it hadn't been for her tendency to squint every time she looked at him too closely. Caspian tried to ignore the habit, as everyone else seemed to. But it still distracted him, and he wondered briefly if a drop of Lucy's cordial would help the poor girl. Gerdi seemed oblivious to his distraction, choosing instead to ride quietly beside him.

"It is a pleasant day, is it not?" Caspian finally asked after a long period of silence, unwilling to be rude. Gerdi smiled shyly at him and looked down at her mount's mane.

"Yes, your Majesty."

Silence. Caspian suppressed his overwhelming desire to spur Destrier ahead, knowing Gerdi's mare could not keep up. However that would have been unkind, and it wasn't at Gerdi's insistence that they were out here riding. Unfortunately that didn't make it any less uncomfortable. They had been here amongst the orchards for the last half hour, and besides exchanging a few pleasantries, they had not said much. Finally, the girl seemed to gather up enough courage to speak plainly.

"I apologize, your Majesty," she said softly, sounding very embarrassed. "I am well aware of your feelings for the queen. But as my father's loyal daughter I could not disobey him when he ordered me to invite you on this ride."

"And as a gentleman. I could not refuse," Caspian replied drolly, unintentionally making Gerdi flush.

"He refuses to allow me to drop my suit," Gerdi explained. "If given the choice, I would press it no further."

Caspian gave her a rueful smile.

"I admit that it does make things mildly uncomfortable with Queen Susan," he said. At the distressed look on her face, Caspian reined in Destrier, indicating that Gerdi should do the same. The King took her by the gloved hand, reassuringly.

"I do not take insult, dear lady, and neither does the queen. You have been a gentle and pleasant guest. Despite my differences in opinion with your father, the Duke, you are always welcome in my home."

Gerdi positively glowed beneath his words, then blushed and looked away when he set down her hand.

"I do enjoy being here," she admitted. "I have found her Majesty, Queen Lucy, to be delightful. And Queen Susan has been nothing but kind."

"Aye," Caspian smiled at the change in subject and set Destrier walking again, Gerdi half a step behind. "She is as kind as she is brave, and both as she is beautiful."

"If I may be so bold?" Gerdi waited for his nod before she continued. "Your Majesty seems to love her very much."

"I am courting her," Caspian said softly, voice full of pride. Then he shook his head, once more a rueful smile on his face. "Although I believe I am not as charming as she is used to. I blunder quite a bit around her."

He half expected Gerdi to deny it, as most of his subject would have, but she just laughed.

"Is it not the privilege of beautiful women to make even kings unsure of themselves?" Gerdi joked lightly. Then she sighed, obviously enjoying how the wind blew gently across their faces as they made their way through the trees. "They say that no other woman was as sought after as she was. It is a hard thing to do, to earn the love of one so beloved. The King has succeeded where others have failed."

"Have I?" Caspian asked himself quietly. "I would not suppose to say what the Queen feels in her heart, although I may hope that she holds me as dear as I hold her. I probably should not be speaking of this with you, considering your suit. I apologize if I have given offense, my lady."

Gerdi just laughed again, looking almost pretty as a strand of windswept red hair fell across her cheek. She pushed it back with gloved fingers. "No more offense than I have given you, sir, with my father's blatant attempts to press me upon you. Be thankful that I have ignored some of his more… pointed suggestions at how I could get your attention."

Caspian's face showed his outrage at that comment, but Gerdi shrugged as if it was nothing.

"My father loves me, your Majesty," she defended the Duke dutifully. "He would never _force_ me into a compromising situation. Although he would not be above simply turning the other way should that situation occur."

They emerged from the orchard and saw below them on the plains a small group of Galma's knights. The Duke's entourage had taken to practicing there together when not expected at court.

"What do _you_ want, Lady Gerdi?" Caspian asked her, dark eyes on her as she watched the riders below. She smiled shyly, as if she had never been asked such a question before. In truth she had not.

"Me, Sire?" Gerdi breathed out and rested her hand on her horse's mane, her eyes sparkling as she spoke. "I want to read. I want to learn. I want to know everything about this land and the people in it firsthand. I want to see more than just the inside of a sitting room or a great hall."

Caspian smiled at her enthusiasm. At one time, when he deemed what was appropriate by his Uncle's standards, her desires would have sounded unseemly for a woman of status. But Caspian had spent the last few months in the constant presence of two very strong women that always did as they pleased, and his mindset had changed drastically.

"But I shall be a wife," Gerdi finally added, as if there was no avoiding it. "I am my father's most precious commodity to trade… that is until I am too old or ugly to attract suitors."

"He would force you into a marriage against your choosing," Caspian stated, knowing there was no question. Gerdi just smiled crookedly. Caspian shook his head. "This is not the Narnia it once was. And as King, I intend to change many things back to the ways of Old. One of those is that no man or woman must marry against their will."

"I do not think that my father will agree to that, your Majesty."

Caspian's expression darkened. "He will if I say he will," the King said firmly. "Or if he will not, then perhaps his gentle daughter should remain here, where she is appreciated."

Gerdi stared at him, and then looked away quickly. Caspian thought perhaps to hide the tears in her eyes, knowing from Susan that the woman had found little support in her father's house. Her gaze went to the knights gathered below, but to one in particular. Caspian recognized him. It was the knight that had nearly defeated him in the joust. Truly, the knight had deserved to win, and had only lost to Caspian because of the benefits of the King's ailment. Caspian had intended to rectify that but had yet to find time. Gerdi watched the knight long enough that Caspian started to smile to himself. Caspian pushed Destrier ahead, catching the knight's eye and waving him forward. The Galmarian approached them at an easy lope, his charger snorting.

"Your Majesty," the knight bowed his head respectfully, then glanced at Gerdi. "My lady."

"Sir Toman," Gerdi said politely, but she did smile overmuch at him, considering her suit to the King.

"Toman, I have a favor to ask of you," Caspian said, sounding apologetic. "Unfortunately I have urgent business that has come up, and I must attend to it. But the Lady Gerdi is enjoying her ride and it is unfair to insist she return straightaway." He left the comment open ended to see if the knight would bite. Indeed, he did.

"I would be honored to escort the Lady, Sire," Sir Toman declared, a smile lighting up his face. "And if might say, I would be pleased as well."

"Then perhaps you should say it, good knight," Caspian joked lightly as he turned Destrier around. Gerdi was staring at him in amazement. "You have no objections, my lady?"

"Nay, sir."

"Then good. I hope to see you both at court later. Good day." And with that, Caspian rode off, leaving his two wide eyed subjects behind him.

Feeling pleased with himself, Caspian waited until he was out of eyesight, and then spurred Destrier. The horse leapt ahead, and Caspian galloped back all the way to the castle, only slowing to jump off and give the reins to a waiting groom. Caspian took the front stairs two at a time, knowing exactly where he was going, and eager to get there. Hornabret had timed the ride during the Queen's usual tea time, in an attempt to come between the two monarchs. Therefore Susan was seated demurely at the dining table, alone as she sipped from a delicate bone cup when Caspian stepped into the room. She set the cup down just in time, for then she was swept to her feet and spun about.

"Caspian!" she laughed. "I thought you with Gerdi. What are you doing?"

"Attending to urgent business," he replied with a smile. Then he set her back down and kissed her softly. "Have I told her Majesty how much I treasure her today?"

"Why no, you have not," Susan grinned, and then she leaned up hugged him about his neck. "But I shall forgive it just this once. What has you in such good humor?"

Caspian thought about it. There were many things. Not being poisoned. Not sitting before the aggravating council. Not standing between two nations trying to kill each other. Not being in the shadow of the High King, who always seems to know just what to do, even when Caspian thought him wrong. Only worrying about the safety of three Pevensies, instead of four because the fourth was right in front of him. Not riding with Gerdi. Finally Caspian just smiled and took her in his arms.

"Just you, my queen. Just you."

For Susan, that answer was good enough.

* * *

The Town was empty.

Edmund looked around the cleared streets and closed up shops, searching for any sign that life was still there. But he could find none. What confused him the most was after all the dark descriptions of the Town, the actuality of it was not nearly so bad. The sun shone across the main street, and he could see all the way to the shadowed boulders on the other side of town where it ended.

"A little anticlimactic, isn't it?" Trumpkin muttered, raising an eyebrow. "It wasn't like this twenty years ago."

"What was it like?" Edmund asked.

"More… everything."

"Fa! There is nothing here," Reepicheep spat, looking aggravated. "A grand adventure of just us three and the only action we've seen is a few Telmarine ruffians in that tavern."

"A few?" Edmund shook his head ruefully. "Try thirty, friend Mouse."

"A paltry few, and not a Giant to speak of. And here our Town is abandoned." Reepicheep sighed. "Well, perhaps I shall find satisfaction within the White Witch's castle."

"Could we please not ask for more trouble?" Ed begged as he started them walking down the main street towards the other side. "I for one am perfectly happy without the extra fighting." Even as he spoke, the king made sure to keep his hand on the hilt of his sword, just in case this place was more dangerous than it looks.

"I wonder what happened here?" Trumpkin looked completely befuddled. "I swear this place was of the worst sort, with the evilest fellows you'd ever set your eyes on."

"That looks like it might have been evil once," Edmund could help but joke as they passed an abandoned cart with a broken wheel. "Or certainly evil-ish."

"Have I ever said how much I preferred the company of Queen Lucy?" Trumpkin mentioned, making Edmund grin. Already they had almost made the far end, and he was growing easier. Maybe this place cleared out when the hag and werewolf failed to raise the White Witch.

"What and miss my rugged good looks?" Edmund made a show of peering at himself as they passed a mostly dried up old fountain.

"Is there truly nothing here for me to slay?" Reepicheep couldn't help but complain. "I have not drawn my blade in four days against foe!"

"That tree root wasn't a foe, Reep," Edmund chuckled, letting go of his sword. "It just tripped you."

"You never can be sure who to trust in these times…" the Mouse declared as they stepped out of the Town. "And I for one will not be caught unawares--"

Reepicheep's words died in his throat. Then he turned to the king in confusion. "Sire?"

"Beards and beardsticks!" Trumpkin stared in front of him in horror. Oddly enough Edmund began to laugh humorlessly as he looked down the street before them. It was the same street he had just travelled, complete with cart and fountain and boulders in the distance.

"And I say it again," Edmund said. "Can we _please_ not ask for more trouble?"

This time even Reepicheep kept his mouth shut.

* * *

It was a lovely little afternoon tea, with music and dancing, but the King was quite content sitting off by himself.

Caspian watched Susan across the great room, where she sat speaking to Hornabret, the Duke of Galma, and General Tenneth. The general was as stiff and formal as ever, and it was obvious that he was splitting his attention between her words and scanning the room for any signs of danger. He met Caspian's eyes and nodded briefly, before turning back to the queen. Caspian shrugged. After much convincing on Peter's part, Caspian had ordered the general's duties lightened. But that being said, it seemed that if he was off duty, the general could almost always be found shadowing the queen, as if still her bodyguard. Caspian found it odd, but encouraging. It was good that others cared about the queen's safety as much as he did. Because to Caspian, keeping Susan safe and happy was one of his most satisfying tasks.

"She is quite beautiful, is she not?" he said quietly to his companion that currently rested on his knee. The kitten (or Kitten, we must continue to say so not to give insult) mewed sleepily and looked around. Caspian turned the kitten carefully so that it was facing Susan, although it seemed more interested in turning back around and curling up on his leg. Caspian scratched the kitten lightly behind its ears, making it tip its head sideways so that he could reach the proper place.

"I think sometimes that my life changed the day I first laid eyes on her." The kitten, sensing the import of his words, yawned pointedly and ducked its head. Caspian chuckled, once more turning the kitten so that it faced Susan. "In the forest that day, after fighting with Peter. I looked at her… never before have I looked at someone and realized that I had to look one more time."

Deciding to humor him, the kitten mewed, its round eyes focusing on a Faun playing his flute off to the left. Several pairs of dancers swirled past, including Lady Gerdi with a courtier and Rosetta the pretty young Dwarf with a second Faun. The Fauns danced any chance they could, Caspian had realized.

"We are not counting my surprise at meeting the Narnians," Caspian corrected with a smile. He looked down at the kitten, who was batting its little paw in the direction of the Faun. "If you were a Kitten, would you let us know? Because Lucy is desperately curious, she just does not want to rush you."

The kitten gave up attacking the Faun and rolled over on its back, presenting its belly and giving Caspian permission to scratch it. But Caspian was unfortunately distracted once more.

"I think sometimes that I am in love with her," he said softly, so that only the kitten could hear. Still upside down, the kitten craned its head around so that it too was looking where Caspian was looking. "I have not told her, it seems so forward. And she had never spoken of her affection for me. She has shown it, but not spoken of it. For such a brave Queen, I believe that being with me frightens her quite a lot. She has been hurt before."

The kitten mewed askance.

"I do not know," Caspian replied. "It was a very long time ago. I doubt that she is inclined to tell me." (Caspian was quite right about that. It is an interesting tale, but another story for another time, should anyone wish to hear it.)

"Aslan was going to send her away, you see," Caspian explained, eyes drinking in the queen as she stood up gracefully. "The people wanted them to stay. Aslan left the choice up to me… I could never send her away. I think even then, part of me was already deeply fond of her. Perhaps one day I will tell her that."

The kitten blinked, then eyed him warily.

"You think I'm foolish," Caspian chuckled. "No matter. There are many in this kingdom that think the same thing, for many different reasons. Dear kitten, I am merely doing the best that I am able." With that he picked the kitten up and tucked it in his arms. It burrowed in and happily went back to sleep almost immediately.

"Are you having a conversation with that kitten?" Susan asked with a teasing smile, having come over to him. Caspian shrugged, an easy grin coming to his face.

"Yesterday I spent three hours conversing with a Warthog," Caspian informed her with mock seriousness. "There is nothing abnormal about taking counsel with a kitten."

"Then his Majesty is beginning to understand his kingdom," Susan remarked sagely, her eyes twinkling. "I was wondering, would the King like to dance? The Fauns are preparing to play a favorite song of mine from the days of Old."

"Is that alright with you?" Caspian asked the kitten politely. It responded by digging its claws in more tightly, not inclined to lose the warm body it was snoozing against. Caspian sighed regretfully. "I am sorry, my queen. My attention has otherwise been properly engaged."

"It is fine," Susan said with an airy shake of her hair. "I shall just have to go ask the Duke of Galma. I'm sure Hornabret will have no such objections."

"That man does not touch you," Caspian growled, although he was surprised a bit at his instantaneous reaction. Susan laughed outright, and Caspian grinned ruefully. "Perhaps the general? I would not expect him to become overly friendly."

"Are you telling me no?" Susan asked, looking surprised. "Truly?"

Caspian blushed a bit, and then muttered so only the three of them could hear. "I cannot dance."

"How is that possible?" She didn't believe it. "As Prince, they would have had to teach you."

"Oh, they certainly tried," Caspian nodded emphatically. "They just failed. Miserably. And I am much too fond of you than to put you through the humiliation of dancing with me. Should your feet survive, your pride would not."

Susan grinned and took his hand, pulling him up to his feet despite his reluctance. The kitten found itself being left on Caspian's chair, and it decided that that would have to do. Chairs are not nearly as fidgety as humans anyway. Susan led Caspian out to the center of the room, where the other dancers gathered, waiting for the next song. All eyes were on the royals as they made their way to the floor. Gerdi curtseyed to them both, with a smile on her flushed face. She had obviously been having quite a good time.

"They are all looking at us," Caspian muttered to Susan as she took her place in the middle of the floor, turning and facing him. The soft haunting sounds of flutes permeated the air as he bowed politely to her, as did the other males to their partners. He at least was good at that part…

"No, Caspian," Susan shook her head, and then she gave him a very tiny smile. At some signal unknown to him, Susan curtseyed deeply, the other females doing the same. Her bright eyes never left his. "This is something you are going to need to learn. When we dance, they are all looking at _me_."

It was perhaps the most conceited thing he had ever heard her say, and it took him by surprise. But then as the queen rose and grinned at him, spinning away on light feet with her skirts swirling about her, he realized that it was very true. He only barely remembered that he was supposed to be stepping towards her in time to the music, and then she was back, her hand on his chest as she turned about him. Susan caught both of his hands, positioning them crossed in front of her and slipping inside the cage of his arms, allowing him to hold her as they moved across the floor.

"I do not know this dance," Caspian whispered in her ear. Susan was laughing and once more slipping out of his arms.

"Neither do they," she said archly as she spun, her feet quick and her hair swinging freely about her shoulders. It was true. None of the others knew her dance, except for the Fauns, who know every dance. Therefore Caspian was not the only Telmarine standing a bit lost, eyes on the Queen of Narnia. The Telmarines had always called the Narnians savage before their extinction, and Caspian had never quite understood it. They were as polite a lot as any. But as he watched Susan move, the Narnian song seemed to overtake him, blocking out both thought and reason, and he began to understand. His blood pulsed through his veins in time with the music, the haunting chords growing in pace and tempo. The Fauns were the only ones that could keep up, in fact they seemed to realize that this dance was for them and their Queen only, and they spun about her on hooves that never missed a step. Even in such a place as this, their movements were free and wild, part of the earth that sprang them forth. And in the center was their barbarian queen, starkly beautiful, gloriously dangerous, her eyes locked on Caspian's as she proved as she danced just how unlike these Telmarines her and her people were.

Caspian had never wanted anything so badly in his life.

His heart pounded in his chest as he stepped forward, the Fauns shifting to allow him and only him through, for he was their King and only he had the right to approach their dancing Queen. Caspian reached for her hand, touching fingers only before she disappeared in a swirl of red skirts and dark curls. Around and around him she danced, now circling him as the Fauns circled her. Light caresses against his arms and shoulders, laughing and teasing him and daring him to catch her. Caspian's eyes darkened and he forgot that there was anyone else that existed but her. As the music reached a fever pitch, the King finally lunged forward, his arms coming about her waist. Her momentum was such that he had to turn, lifting her up as he did so that she would not fall. When her feet touched down once more, he crushed her to him, bending her backwards as if to kiss her.

"You are truly a creature of Old…" he told her, voice thick with desire.

"And you have caught me, my lord," Susan whispered meaningfully, face flushed and her chest rising and falling with heavy breathes. Then as the music suddenly stopped, and the Fauns parted away from the pair, Susan slipped from his arms and slid down into the standard post dance curtsey. Her eyes dropped demurely before the King, as if she any other lady and it any other dance. There was a moment of silence, and then the assembled began to cheer. The Narnians especially because they recognized the tribute for what it was, a dance of Old. The Fauns knew that there was even deeper meaning to it, but they were too polite to say anything.

"I told you they would be looking at me." Susan said, a touch of a smirk to her lips as Caspian offered her his hand and helped her to rise. She gave him a polite nod. "Thank you for the dance." And with that the Queen of the Narnians swept out of the room, all eyes on her and then on Caspian. The King looked awestruck as he watched her go. That was probably what she had been going for.

The kitten yawned and went back to sleep.

* * *

It was a really big hole.

"You know," the High King murmured. "Collapsing the tunnels _seemed_ like a good idea at the time."

Peter tipped his side to the side, staring down at the massive hole that he and Caspian had created. It had been the first time the two had worked together in concert, coming up with an idea to save their army. True it had been Lucy's appeal to Aslan that had really won the battle of Aslan's How, but at the time Peter had been proud of their plan and how successfully it had worked against the Telmarine army. But now as he stood next Glenstorm, who was patiently awaiting his decision on how to fix it, Peter was left scratching his head. The Centaurian General and the other Narnians surrounding him weren't helping much.

"That's a really big hole," Lucy echoed Peter's thoughts, staring in awe around her. This was the first time the youngest monarch had journeyed to the How since the battle. Her eyes were wide. "You and Caspian did this? Why?"

Peter thought about explaining, and then decided against it. "Why don't we just try and figure out how to put it right, Lu?" he suggested pointedly. Lucy grinned up at him.

"Didn't think about this part?" she asked. Peter rolled his eyes.

"I was a bit busy at the time," he told her flatly. "Now, what do you lot think we should do?"

"We could always just leave it," Trufflehunter suggested mildly. "It's not _that_ unsightly." Uncomfortable in close contact with most humans, the Badger had elected to spend his time here with Glenstorm, directing the rebuilding of the How.

"Depends on your idea of unsightly," Peter said with a sigh. "It was so nice here, and we just had to mess it up with our war. I think I'm going to ban wars from now on."

"Would that work?" Pattertwig asked excitedly, forgetting himself and grabbing onto the High King's hand. "I would like a Narnia without war. I lost half of my nuts in this last one."

Trufflehunter looked shocked at the Squirrel's audacity, but Peter just gave Pattertwig a gentle smile and squeezed his tiny paws in return.

"It is what I am trying for," he assured the Squirrel. "It is what we are all trying for."

"They were my very best nuts…," Pattertwig confided sadly, the first unhappy expression they had ever seen crossing the little Narnian's face. Peter knelt down in the grass so that he was at eye level with the loyal and devoted Squirrel, who looked about in tears. He had been very brave and quiet about his loss until now, but in the presence of his king, Pattertwig couldn't contain his personal tragedy any longer.

"Then when we are done, my friend," Peter replied very seriously. "We shall have to go find some more, you and I."

Pattertwig sniffed, and then looked up hopefully with round eyes. "Truly?"

"Truly, good Squirrel," Peter nodded then stood up again. Lucy grinned at him and hugged his arm, as the now overjoyed Squirrel jumped from person to person, telling each that he and the High King would be looking for nuts together.

"Have you ever looked for nuts?" Lucy asked him when the Narnian was out of earshot. Peter just shrugged.

"No, but there are worse things. It made him happy, and if I can go through a day making at least one of my subjects happier than he was the day before, then it was a day worth spending. Even if it is spent gathering acorns."

"The High King loves his people," Glenstorm rumbled praising words from Peter's shoulder. "As it has always been, as it always should be." Peter flushed a bit from that. Compliments from Centaurs were few and far between, and Peter had always had the impression that this one was uncertain about him. Glenstorm had pledged to Caspian before Peter had shown up, and even though he conceded to Peter's rank, the High King had always wondered if the Centaur would have been happier just following Caspian.

"Too bad love can't fix a hole," Peter joked, but he gave Glenstorm a grateful glance. The Centaur simply nodded.

The High King moved to the edge and slowly climbed down, using rocks and half buried tree roots for handholds. He brushed the dirt off his palms as he reached the bottom. Lucy had decided to follow, so Peter stretched up to take her about the waist when she was close enough. Setting her down on her feet at his side, the two monarchs proceeded to pick their way through the wreckage. One of the reasons that Lu had not been brought out here until now was that it had taken a long time to clear out the remains of those fallen on both sides of the battle. The heat of the summer sun had made the How a miserable place, and burying your friends is never fun. Peter had a memorial planned for Narnians lost (New and Old) but he wanted the How finished beforehand. As it was, there was no hiding Lucy from the destruction that had occurred here. The grass was still stained dark with blood, and her eyes grew sad as she looked around. Here and there a Narnian arrow or a Telmarine spear could still be found, and Lucy paused at one.

"I think this is one of Su's arrows," she told Peter, holding up the red feathered arrow for him to see. "She had said she couldn't find two after the battle and was really upset about them."

"Then best keep it," he replied, settling down on his haunches and staring around. "You know how she is about losing those. Has to get back every sodding one no matter what she used them for. Remember the drunken Minotaur that Christmas?"

Lucy started laughing as she tucked the arrow into her belt.

"And Su almost got run through before she climbed the Christmas tree? I've never seen Edmund that mad in my life," she remembered. "I thought he was going to punch Logan."

"He _did_ punch Logan," Peter smirked. "He just waited until you left. Ed didn't want you to know and use the cordial on him when Ed broke his nose. As it was, I think Tumnus snuck him a drop when we weren't looking. "

"I remember the Faun Tumnus from the stories, but who is this Logan?" Trufflehunter asked curiously as he finished climbing down himself. Peter and Lucy just shared a somber look, one of friends long lost.

"A rascal," Peter said quietly. "A card cheat, a thief upon occasion, and once a pirate. But despite that he was a good man. He saved Narnian once, although no one knows about it. Too bad, that, he should have gone down in the histories for it."

"Your Majesty never insisted?" Trufflehunter seemed confused.

"My Majesty never did." Peter looked like he wanted the subject changed, and so change it he did. "What was the purpose of these caverns that we collapsed? Were they catacombs?"

"No one was ever buried here, Sire," the Badger replied. "The How was created directly after the four Kings and Queens of Old disappeared, and never finished."

"You can just say 'us'," Lucy reminded him, stepping closer.

"Yes. My apologies, your Majesty." Trufflehunter paused, thinking about his words before explaining as best he could remember. "When you four disappeared, the Narnians were at a loss. The Steward, Tumnus, did the best he could, but the country was falling apart long before the Telmarines came. The Narnians searched for Aslan, but when he refused to show himself in their time of need, many began to lose faith. The last thing Steward Tumnus did was order the How built. He had hoped it would restore the people's faith, maybe even return Aslan to us. He died before it reached completion and directly afterwards Cair Paravel was attacked. The true purpose of the caverns was never known."

"How extensive are they? Do they stretch behind the How as well?"

"The unfinished tunnels have not been explored, Sire. I could not say."

Peter stood and called up to Glenstorm. "I don't like the idea of just leaving it like this. We're one nation now, not Narnians versus Telmarines. A lot of them died in here, and I don't want that thrown in their faces when the How is finished. We need to try and rebuild the supports, and if it can't hold dirt on top anymore, then maybe we can fake it."

"Fake it, Sire?" Trufflehunter tipped his petite nose up towards his king.

"He means we should build a structure and cover it with grass," Lucy explained, understanding what her brother meant from years of working alongside him. Then she briefly seemed confused. "Right, Peter?"

Peter gave her shoulders a squeeze, knowing what was happening in her head. It was the hardest for Lucy, to have gone from an adult back to a little girl and sometimes the confliction left her unsettled.

"Right, Lu." He directed her back towards the side of the hole. "Now come on. I need you to help me with something, and you're the best at it." Her face brightened and she took hold of his hand.

"What's that?" Lucy asked as Peter lifted her up into the waiting arms of Glenstorm.

"We're going to need some wood to help build this," he told her. "And there's no one better than you at convincing the Trees for help."

"Except for Aslan," Lucy piped up loyally, and Peter grinned as he accepted a helping hand out himself.

"Except for him," Peter agreed. "And if Aslan wants to show up, then I would be more than happy to see him."

"Do you think he will come back? Or be gone a long time?"

"I don't know Lu. You know what Tumnus always said. Now let's go see about some Trees."

And so they did.

* * *

By the fifth time they had travelled through the Town, only to find themselves back at the entrance, Edmund had a brilliant thought.

"You know," he said as he stood panting (they had tried running this last time). "I think I would be alright with finding another way around the Town, besides going through it. Let's just go back out and go around the outside."

"Good idea, Sire," Reepicheep agreed a bit breathlessly. "We can handle any obstacles thrown at us, and this is getting us nowhere."

"You decide that all on your own?" Trumpkin asked Reep sarcastically. The Mouse ignored him, instead leading the way back through the front entrance of the Town. His decisive little footsteps faltered when instead of stepping out onto the rocky path that they had travelled to the entrance, he found himself stepping out from the boulders at the far end of town, facing the entrance. Edmund and Trumpkin had hesitated, seeing Reepicheep disappear, and they swung around. The little figure of the Mouse could be seen darting towards them, looking quite uncomfortable with being down at the far end by himself.

"Any more bright ideas?" Trumpkin turned to the King.

"Why are you looking at me?" Edmund asked. The Dwarf grinned.

"Because you're in charge. I think I'll just wait until you decide what we should do, Sire." With that Trumpkin settled down and made himself comfortable, with Reepicheep doing the same. This situation was beyond the Mouse but he had full confidence in the brilliance of his King, and he made sure to tell Edmund so.

"Great," Ed muttered as he walked away from the two, trying to think. Then he stepped over to where Reepicheep had disappeared. Taking a deep breath, Edmund made a fist before he stuck his hand through the spot and watched it disappear up to the elbow. Then he craned his head over his shoulder. From across the Town his hand was waving jovially back at him.

"Oh bloody hell."

* * *

Caspian was watching her. He had been doing that a lot since yesterday, and while it had been the effect that she had wished, Susan was ready for him to… well stop. It was making her a bit uncomfortable.

"Do you wish to say something?" she finally asked, raising an eyebrow. Caspian blinked, as if surprised, and then he looked down at his stew.

"My queen?" he sounded as if he didn't understand the question. But by the tiny curve to his mouth, she knew he was simply playing with her.

"Coy doesn't quite suit you, Caspian," Susan remarked, but her amusement grew as he held her gaze with twinkling eyes. "What is it?"

"The High King returns soon, does he not?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Well, I was thinking…" Caspian drifted off. Susan leaned forward in her chair, now very interested.

"What?"

"I was thinking that if he is to return, then I will have to muss you completely before he does." Caspian said it as if speaking about something as normal as tea, and he took a bite of his stew. Susan's eyes widened, caught off guard. It was not often he caught her off guard.

"Wha… what do you mean?" she asked. Caspian just gave her a fond smile, but not a desiring one.

"Muss you. I will have to do it rather well before Peter comes back." He took a drink of wine and continued with his meal.

"You mean now?" Susan's voice had become a touch nervous. She was used to kissing Caspian, but usually in the moment of passion, not after an announcement. It made her heart race a bit faster, but it also made her uncomfortable.

"Hmmm?" Caspian scraped his bowl then set it aside. He stood up, making his way to her chair. Caspian leaned down as if to kiss her, his breath hot on her skin. She was about to turn her mouth towards his, but instead he shifted and whispered in her ear. "No, my dear queen. Not now."

Caspian straightened, giving her a light kiss on the top of her head. Then he turned to go. Susan sat back in shock.

"Caspian?" She was completely confused by his behavior as he strolled to the door.

"Yes?"

"When?" she couldn't help but ask. His eyes twinkled and he smirked.

"Soon. Good day, your Majesty."

With that the King just left Susan alone in the dining area, still holding her spoon halfway to her bowl. After a moment of silence, she said to the empty room.

"Well, that's not fair!"

* * *

"I know you're doing this!" Edmund called to nothing. He was standing on the fountain, yelling at the Town. "And we're running out supplies, so if you lot want to keep this up, then at least give us some water!"

After a moment of silence the fountain beneath him suddenly burst into life, soaking the monarch from head to toe. His language started to go downhill at that point.

* * *

"Your Majesty. May I speak with you?"

Caspian looked up from the large stack of papers strewn about his desk and saw Lord Tenneth standing in the doorway. The usually stoic man looked oddly uncomfortable.

"Is something wrong, Tenneth?" Caspian asked cautiously. Anything that rattled the general made Caspian instantly wary. The General stepped one single step into his office, very obviously keeping his distance.

"Yes, your Majesty. Well, no, not anymore. But somewhat, yes."

Okay, anything that had the general that thrown certainly had his attention.

"What is going on, general?" Caspian asked point blank, setting down his quill and giving the man his complete attention. "Is everyone alright?"

"It's the Queen, sire." At Caspian's expression, Lord Tenneth plunged right ahead. "She was missing, but now she has been found."

"Why was I not informed?" the King demanded. "Is she unharmed?"

"Sire, we did not want to alarm you unnecessarily. Her… Badger could not find her and set the palace staff searching. When Queen Susan could not be found, they came to me. One of my men has located her, but he felt that it was not his place to… remove her from the situation."

"What situation, General?" Caspian growled, impatient with the vague answers. "What is going on with the Queen?"

"Well, you see, she is a bit…

* * *

Susan was drunk.

In the effort to be fair, it should be said that the Queen had not intended on getting drunk, nor did she make excessive wine consumption a habit. She had not, however, taken into account that the wine drunk regularly by the townsfolk was not of the same composition as that drunk at the palace. Fine wine was weaker, mainly because the nobles tended to drink it at most of their meals, and it is no fun being in your 'cups before breakfast is even over. But down in the city, the commoners usually drank water, (which was sweeter than any water we have ever drunk here) and it did not empty their pockets. This meant that when the commoners did decide to drink, they did it with a purpose, and that purpose had been fulfilled in the Queen. Sitting with a group of fine Telmarine locals in the back room of a tavern, Susan found herself quite drunk.

It made her very bad at playing cards.

"Go fish!" she said with a giggle, laying down her hand of cards across the table. It was the third time she had said it, and each time she laughed harder, thinking herself quite funny. The men around the table exchanged amused glances, still having no idea what she was talking about despite her having tried several times to explain it. In reality they were playing a game very similar to poker, and had yet to figure out what fish had to do with it. Susan had been here all evening, having dismissed all her guards but Peepicheek, eating and drinking and enjoying herself immensely. It had started out as an attempt to get to know these rough Telmarines, the friends that Mari had brought to her the other day, and unlike most of the ones at the castle they were quite open about their opinions. Susan had learned a lot this evening, although at some point the learning had stopped and the fuzzy happy had started.

"Three aces," the man directly across from her said, laying down his own hand to show it was true. Everyone in the room groaned, except for Susan, who hadn't realized she'd lost again, and Mari, who was in the corner trying to convince a distraught Peepicheek that wine was good for him.

"I do not drink on duty, Madam," Peep told her with great dignity. "Especially in a crowd of ruffians such as these. Nor should you, for the queen might need you," he added. Mari just snorted, being one of those girls who unfortunately snorts when she drinks. She waved her hand over at Susan, who was paying more attention to figuring out why she had lost again then the pair of them.

"Do you need me for anything, my lady?" she stood up unsteadily. "The Mouse thinks I am shirking my duties."

"You _are_ shirking your duties, Mari," the nearest man laughed, and he grabbed her around the waist, pulling her onto his knee. "The Queen needs more money, for she has lost all she has to Drinian over there."

"Have I?" Susan looked around for her pile of coins. "Oh dear. More coin, please, Mari."

Mari, anchored firmly to her companion's knee for balance, seemed at a loss. "I had the purse here…" she checked her waist, and then patted her bodice, making the men grin. "Somewhere. Some…where…" As she continued to root through her bodice, Peepicheek chose that moment to implore his monarch.

"Your Majesty," Peep tried. "If you have run out of money, perhaps you would have me escort you and your lady back to the castle?"

"Nonsense Mouse," a heavily bearded man named Rhince said, grinning devilishly at how uncomfortable the Narnian was. "We were just starting to have fun!"

"Dear sir," Susan wobbled a bit in her chair, and seemed to be unaware of it. "I am quite capable of responding myself. Now then. Nonsense, Peepicheek. We're just starting to have fun. Woops!"

The Queen fell sideways, for no apparent reason, and Peep grabbed her wrist with both paws, trying to right her with his little body. It only managed to slow her enough for Rhince to catch her and help prop her up.

"Oh dear," Susan repeated, looking around. "I believe I have misplaced my drink. Could I have another one?"

"Your Majesty might want to slow down a bit," Drinian suggested, exchanging grins with Rhince. "You have already had quite a lot to drink, and the purse in question was emptied two hands ago."

"Don't tell her that!" the man holding Mari guffawed, enjoying how the poor girl kept trying to find the purse in her bodice.

"Somewhere…" Mari was still patting away, certain it had been there. And it had, at one point. "_Somewhere_…"

"For Aslan's sake, woman, stop groping yourself!" Peepicheek had finally had enough. He drew himself up to his full height (which wasn't much height at all). "You are the Queen's lady! Now I must insist that we leave here at once! Taverns are no place for a queen, and I am ashamed I have allowed this to have gone on so long. Your Majesty, I must insist that we retire. What would your royal brother say?"

"If you are speaking to Edmund, he would say I better win back the money I have lost," Susan laughed, her face reddened from her evening's consumption. "Which I intend to. Deal on, good sirs, deal on! And more wine please. I seem to have misplaced my drink…"

Peepicheek sat down next to her chair, looking quite miserable as Drinian once more dealt out a hand. The King would kill him, he was sure of it, and if he didn't then Captain Reepicheep would have his tail. But Peep refused to leave to go get help; he could not abandon his queen to these men with no one but Mari there. Another man handed her a glass of wine, this one watered down heavily, although it was too little too late.

Now," Susan said as she held up her cards. She squinted at them for a moment, turned them right side up, and tipped her head sideways. "How do we play this game again?"

* * *

One of the good things about being High King of Narnia is that if you decide that you must go in search of nuts, the rest of your subjects tend to feel as if they should as well. Not that all the workers at Aslan's How were obliged to assist in replenishing Pattertwig's supplies, that is to say the Dwarves and Minotaurs. But the others didn't seem to mind that much when they saw that Peter had every intention of keeping his word to the Squirrel this evening, despite how deliciously tired everyone was. Lucy of course decided to go too, and under specific instructions from Pattertwig as to the kind of nuts they were in search of, she found herself walking along with her brother in the dimming forests surrounding the How.

"I wonder what Edmund would say about all this," Lucy wondered as Peter helped her down from the acorn tree she had climbed. "He never did like eating these very much."

"Ed would probably say we'd all gone nutty," Peter chuckled. "But he would help too. You know how he gets."

"I miss him." Lucy gripped Peter's hand tightly as if the contact would bring her other brother back. "I have nightmares about him being in a bad place."

Peter gave Lucy's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Ed's been in bad places before, but he's always come through," he told her.

"Don't you worry about him?"

"Of course, Lu," Peter said. "I worry about him all the time. But I know why it was important that he go, and I don't regret sending him off."

"Do you regret not going too?" she asked softly. "Because I do."

"Don't you think you're still a little young to be off fighting?" he teased. "You haven't grown up all the way yet."

"And Edmund has?" Lucy tipped her head, looking uncertain. Ed was only a bit older than her, and if she was still considered too young, then he should be too. Peter fell quiet for a while, stopping every few feet to check random branches for suitable nuts.

"Edmund is different," Peter finally said. Lucy was tempted to stick her tongue out at him. She settled for eating a nut instead.

"Why, because he is a boy?"

"Lucy, Edmund hasn't been a boy since Aslan died for him on the Stone Table." Lucy looked up at Peter, seeing the expression on his face that was usually reserved for serious matters.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he changed that day. Think about it. Everything he has ever done since then has been him trying to make up for who he was. The way he took care of you growing up, the first time I mean. The way he protected Susan, the way he never leaves my side no matter how much of a git I am being… He's trying to make up for it."

"That's silly," Lucy declared. "Aslan forgave him."

"But that doesn't mean he forgave himself."

"Is that why you let him go alone, so that he could make up for it?" Lucy sounded appalled that Peter would do such a thing. "Haven't _you_ forgiven him?"

"Of course I forgave him," Peter shook his head. "But I know him, Lu. Ed wants redemption, and until he has driven himself far enough and hard enough, he won't feel as if he deserves it. He needs to be the one going after the Beast. He needs to be the one to get back your cordial. He's got to protect us because that one time he didn't, and it almost killed us all. Just because I don't agree with him doesn't mean I don't understand it. And I would rather support him in it then spend my life fighting with him. I've done _that_ enough."

"But Aslan forgave him, Peter. That's all he needs." Lucy would not be budged. The High King gave his sister a smile and nodded acquiescence.

"Not all of us learn our lessons as fast as you, Lu. Perhaps that's why Aslan comes to you the easiest."

"It's not about learning, it's about love," she said resolutely. "And Aslan loves us all, especially Edmund."

"He'll understand one day. When Edmund learns to love himself, he'll learn that what Aslan did _was_ his redemption. Until then, all I can do is let him go when he needs me too."

Lucy was quiet, soaking in his words, and then she smiled.

"When will you let me go?" she teased, ducking out of his reach. "When I'm all grown up too?"

"You, Lu?" Peter grinned and began chasing her around, the littlest queen shrieking as he caught her and tickled her mercilessly. "You, little sister, are stuck with me forever!"

If she hadn't been unable to speak from her gasping laughter, Lucy would have said that was just fine with her.

* * *

Susan had lost a lot of money, and even as tipsy as she was, she was aware of it. Not only had she lost her coins, she had lost the silk purse the coins came in, the gold bracelet on her wrist, a tiny sapphire coronet that at one point had held her now loose hair up, and her left shoe. Now it should be said that Drinian had no intent of actually taking the Queen's shoe. He might have considered it (since they were very nice shoes) had they come in a pair, but since Susan had managed to win the right one back and refused to bet it again, then it was just needlessly cruel.

The queen would have a lot of explaining to do as it was.

"I think my lady in waiting has disappeared," Susan said to the men, whose numbers had dwindled. Now there were just four of them: Susan, Drinian, Rhince, and the man that had been holding Mari. Peepicheek remained steadfastly at her side, wishing that this night could just be over.

"I believe, your Majesty, that she is preoccupied in the back alley," Peepicheek said curtly, sounding very disapproving. Susan's eyes widened.

"Oh," then she giggled, a bit scandalized. "I didn't think she had it in her," Susan murmured to the grins of the men.

"Oh yes, she had much in her," Peep declared, looking disgusted. Drinian choked on his wine, and Rhince's jaw dropped. Both looked at the Queen, to see what she would say. Susan the Gentle was speechless. True she had learned to keep company with the roughest and the most genteel of men, but still… No one spoke that way in front of her. Finally the only thing she was able to come out with was this.

"Uh… is she alright?"

"Doubtful," the Mouse said, taking his opportunity. "Perhaps one of these _fine_ men would go out and assist her." Peep didn't understand why everyone was staring at him so. Somewhere a Cricket chirped. Becoming aggravated, the Mouse stood up and put his little paws on his hips defiantly.

"Well, it is not as if _I_ could assist her," he snapped, drawing his sword and hopping onto the table, his sweet temper near an end. Rhince started coughing, desperately trying to contain his laughter and not get a tiny sword through his throat as it waved his way. "Is there not a gentlemen in you lot? A lady ill with drink is nothing to ignore!"

He just did not understand why everyone was laughing, and he found it quite offensive. He was about to challenge them all but the Queen, as any noble Mouse should, when the men he faced grew suddenly very quiet. Susan was still laughing a bit overmuch, finding this all quite funny, when she realized that the Telmarines were staring past her at the door. Drinian lurched to his feet, grabbing Rhince roughly and pulling him up with him. The third man followed suit, with less grace, considering he was almost as gone as Susan was. Confused as to why they all looked suddenly so… guilty, she turned around.

"Oh! Hallo, Caspian!" Susan said brightly, weaving a bit in her chair. Turning had stopped being so easy a while ago. In the doorway stood the King, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe. He was dressed casually, but his sword hung at his hip. He took in the scene, from the obviously drunken Queen to the offended Mouse (who was now more relieved than ever before in his life), the three scruffy and slightly dirty men, and Susan's shoe on the table.

"Good evening, my queen," Caspian said softly, nodding his head respectfully. But his dark eyes were cold as he looked at the Telmarines. They gave awkward bows, and looked very nervous. Although technically they had done nothing wrong, they still had gotten the Queen of Narnia quite pissed and taken her money and everything else of value she had. Just because she had volunteered meant nothing. It looked… bad.

"Caspian, I want you to meet some of my friends," Susan said happily, waving him over as she tried to stand up too. Everyone else was and it seemed like the thing to do. Unfortunately skirts and wine and chair legs and Susan weren't working in concert at the moment, and she pitched face first out of her seat. Having seen it coming before she even tried to move, Drinian made a grab for her, catching her about the waist to steady her. Then he went pale as he realized he was holding the Queen of Narnia against him in front of the King, now her suitor. But Drinian couldn't do anything about it because it was obvious if he let her go, then Susan would end up on the floor. Drinian glanced helplessly at Rhince, who was cringing.

"Her Majesty has had too much wine," Drinian muttered as his King stepped forward and removed the Queen from his arms.

"I can see that, sir," Caspian said in a hard voice. "Perhaps the wine barrel should have been _empty_ long before now." Rhince cringed again, understanding. Caspian was saying they should have cut her off. Technically they had tried, but being men they hadn't realized so little would affect her so much.

"Oh no, it's not empty," Susan informed him merrily as Caspian helped her back to her seat. At this point any ideas of taking her out of here immediately were gone. She was way too intoxicated to be riding, even behind him. "There is still plenty. Have some of mine."

Susan shoved her glass at Caspian, who took it without complaint. Not one to share drinks, he wanted to see what they had been giving her, and no matter what it was he wanted to make sure she had no more. Fortunately the wine was well weakened with water, although he doubted it had always been that way. The men watched him uncertainly.

"These are my new friends," Susan repeated, oblivious to the tension in the room. "Drinian and Rhince and… and I can't remember his name. He likes Mari's bodice, though." Caspian's head snapped around, and Susan, catching his expression, decided to clarify. "Oh, don't be silly, Caspian. He doesn't like _my_ bodice. At least, if he does he has not said anything about it."

It was possibly the worst thing she could have said and the man in question groaned audibly. Susan plunged on blissfully.

"I don't know where Mari is. Peep knows, although I can't remember if I should be knowing." Susan leaned in as if telling him a secret. "I think perhaps I shouldn't." Then she giggled a bit drunkenly.

"Your lady is on her way back to the castle, your Majesty," Caspian said, pointedly disapproving. Peepicheek looked smug. "She was sick in the alley. Although I do not know why she was unaccompanied." The look he gave the Mouse made the smug expression slide off Peep's face. Once again the poor little Narnian looked quite miserable.

"We were just calling it an evening, your Majesty," Drinian said gruffly, trying to work himself out of the situation. "By your leave?"

"Not by mine, Drinian!" Susan declared. "You scoundrel, my honor will not be appeased until I have once more reclaimed my shoe."

"Your Majesty may have it back," he said uncomfortably. "A single shoe is not necessary to make this night a success."

"Nonsense," Susan said firmly, weaving a bit and reaching for her glass without looking. Caspian moved it a few inches out of her grasp. "You won it fair and square, and I shall do the same. Caspian, would you like to play with us? I would lend you some coin but I seem to have misplaced all of mine. All of yours, really." At that Susan started to laugh again, finding it quite funny.

"May I ask how much?" Caspian saw Drinian flush and then noticed the large pile of gold in front of him, along with Susan's things. Now it was Caspian's turn to wince.

"The Queen had too much drink," Drinian said gruffly, pushing the money back across the table. "It is not fair to keep it. The company was sufficiently pleasant."

Caspian might have grown up wealthy, but he knew exactly how much money that was to this man, and did not miss the pain of its loss in Drinian's eyes.

"The Queen is right," Caspian said firmly, sitting down next to Susan. "You won it fairly, and if we want it back, we shall have to do the same. What is the game?"

"Oh, swell!" Susan clapped her hands happily, reminding Caspian of Lucy. "We shall show them what Kings and Queens are truly made of." She promptly fell out of her seat. It had become a habit. Thankfully both Caspian and Drinian reached for her and between the two managed to upright her. Realizing that she would not be capable of successfully playing, Caspian squeezed her shoulder gently.

"Perhaps my queen would allow me the pleasure of reclaiming her belongings?"

It was a valiant try, but Susan would have none of it. She insisted Rhince deal, and had a bit of a time arranging her cards until Caspian helpfully turned one of them over to face her. She proudly bet another round, using his purse this time, and Caspian inwardly groaned. At first the Telmarines had been very nervous about the situation, but quickly they grew amused watching as Caspian not only tried to keep his own money, but also tried to win back hers. Unfortunately she was simultaneously losing as much of his money as he was getting back of hers, and therefore the pile in front of Drinian didn't change, but the piles in front of them did. Caspian questioned the three men as they played, in a seemingly polite fashion, although it was obvious why he was asking what he was asking. Caspian wanted to know who they were and why they were with the Queen. It was only by chance (and perhaps some cheating on Drinian's part) that gained the Queen back her shoe.

"Aha!" Susan cried as she held it up for them to see. Then she bent to put it back on. "See? Never cross blades, or cards with a Queen of Narnia—oh, I believe I am going to be sick…"

She wasn't, although for a brief moment Caspian's boots were a bit concerned as she stared down at them, the King's arms supporting her as her face went from red to green, then settled on pale. Caspian decided that enough was enough. It was time the Queen head home.

"I believe that I should call it an evening, Caspian," Susan decided as he picked her up in his arms, already heading for the door. "I should say goodbye to my friends."

"You already did, my queen," he reassured her. "And do not be concerned. I do not plan to retire just yet."

The table of men, who had stood hopefully, now sat back down again and slumped dejectedly. Obviously the King was not through with them yet. Peepicheek gave them a victorious look before following the monarchs out the door. Caspian carried Susan outside, where General Tenneth and Caspian's guard stood waiting.

"Place her in front of you, Tenneth," Caspian ordered quietly, not wanting his words repeated in every home tomorrow morning. "She will not be able to hold on properly."

Tenneth silently shifted backwards so that he sat behind the saddle, holding Susan tightly when Caspian set her down before him. The Queen slumped against Tenneth's chest, looking half asleep already, her hand resting on his shoulder. Caspian shook his head exasperatedly. Out of all of them, she was the last he would have expected this evening to have been caused by.

"Take care of her Tenneth," Caspian told his general. The older man raised an eyebrow.

"And you, Sire?"

"I am not done here yet," Caspian said with narrowed eyes, turning to head back into the tavern. The general nodded and rode off, signaling for half the guard to remain and half to follow him.

Now that the Queen had gone, the polite Caspian left as well. What remained was a very irritated King in his place. The men sensed the change immediately when Caspian returned and sat back down, and they began shifting nervously.

"I am tempted to pull all three of you out in the alley and show you my feelings about this," Caspian told them flatly the moment he walked back in. "Be thankful she was unharmed or your lives would not be worth a silver right now."

"The queen came here of her own accord, Sire," Rhince said quietly. "We have done nothing wrong."

"Then why do you look so guilty?" Caspian snapped back. "And why did you allow two ladies of their status to become in such condition?" They had no answer for that, and he seated himself once more, taking the stacked deck. It was obvious he intended on continuing the game.

"I have a question for you lot," he continued, dealing out this hand slowly. "Why is it that the Queen of Narnia was in a tavern with you three? How did you even meet?"

"Her Majesty informed her lady in waiting that she wanted to hear what the Telmarine people thought about things," Drinian spoke up, sounding unapologetic despite his discomfort. "Mari brought us up to the castle to speak with her. This time she came down here to us."

"And what _do_ the Telmarinesthink about things?" Caspian voice was a touch acidic. He was not pleased with this man and was making it known.

"I cannot speak for them all, sire," Drinian shot back, toeing the line of respect. "But this one has not been too happy."

"And why is that?"

Drinian ignored the panicked looks Rhince was throwing his way.

"When the Queen of the invading army is the first one to care what the Telmarine commoner thinks, then maybe we have a problem."

"The Lords represent the people, and take their issues to the throne," Caspian said, laying a card flat so he could be dealt a replacement. "Do you believe that this is not working?"

The men exchanged a look, as if even Drinian was afraid to speak his tongue.

"You have little to fear," Caspian told them quietly. "The royal palace guard has been here outside the building for the past two hours. If I intended you harm it would have already taken place. I am simply asking what my queen did… albeit with less wine in the asking." He added the last part with a touch of a grimace.

Rhince leaned forward, tucking his cards down as he did.

"Here's the thing, your Majesty," Rhince said frankly. "And it's what we told the Queen as well. The people are supposed to go to the Lords with their problems, right? Well I can tell you one thing that's for sure, Lord Donnon couldn't care less about what his people have to deal with. We just got out of a war, right? And instead of supporting those who lost fathers and sons, breadwinners for their families, he's taxing them more. It's like he's trying to squeeze every last coin out of them without going so far that the throne notices."

"Are all the Lords doing this?" Caspian interrupted, eyes narrowed. Under Peter's guidance he had lessened taxes to try and ease the suffering of his Telmarine subjects. Caspian noticed that the honesty of these men was causing his irritation to lessen. He had enough double meaning conversations from the council.

"No, Sire, just the ones that stand closest to the throne." Rhince hesitated, then at a nod from Drinian, he continued. "Truth be told, there's rumor going about that the Lords are just waiting for you to get tired of dealing with the Telmarine throne and abandon us, leaving with the Narnian monarchs after they rebuild Cair Paravel."

"We think that someone's trying to cause trouble for you, what with the fire and the poisoning," added the man who enjoyed Mari's bodice.

"They even say that someone's trying to force Lady Galma at your Majesty so that you will be tempted to run off with the Narnian Queen," Rhince chuckled. "Not that anyone would blame you."

"Careful, sir," Caspian said stiffly to Rhince. "The Lady Galma is a personal friend, and I will not hear her slandered."

"My apologies your Majesty," Rhince paled, realizing he had offended the King. "It is just the rumors that we hear."

"How do you hear such things?" Caspian asked them. "And can you put stock in their truths? It is a dangerous thing to imply a Lord of the Council is trying to overthrow the throne. Miraz died for that very reason."

"Miraz was a bastard and not our true king!" Drinian snapped, and then visibly tried to calm himself. "Not all that followed him did so because they believed in him, Sire. And there were those on the field at the How that would have changed sides given the chance. I'm as unsure of talking beasts as the next man, but to take down Miraz I would have saddled that Lion myself."

Caspian kept the smile from his face as he pictures Aslan's response to that, knowing that it was not the time to be laughing.

"And who would you have had in his place?" Caspian's eyes drilled into Drinian's. The roughened man never looked down.

"You, your Majesty, ever since your father died. You are the true King. These Kings and Queens of Old are right enough, but in the end, the one we follow is you. And I hear such things because I listen, which is something the commoner feels the throne has not done since Caspian the Ninth died."

Caspian remained silent, then folded his hand and laid it facing down in front of him. When he spoke, it was as if he was changing the subject.

"What is your trade, Drinian?" The question caught the other man by surprise.

"… My trade? This is my tavern, Sire. Rhince is my right hand."

"Then if I am your true King, I need you to do something for me," Caspian said. The men looked at him curiously. "Do it and I will forgive tonight's occurrences. I need to know just how deep the corruption of these Lords goes. I need to know if what I hear from them is half truth or outright lie. I need you to listen, and when you feel something is worth my knowing, I need you to come tell me."

"That's easier said than done," Drinian shook his head. "The king is harder to see than he realizes."

"Actually that has been recently pointed out to me," Caspian grimaced. Then as he thought about it, a touch of a smirk turned his lips.

"You said you are originally from the island of Galma, Drinian?"

"Sire?"

Caspian's smile grew as he leaned forward and turned over his hand. It was a Royal Flush.

"How good are you at sailing?"

* * *

"I think that perhaps I will be ill," Susan commented to herself, unaware the comment had come too late. She had already been nearly sick twice on the ride home, and the general had stopped his horse both times for her. But it was the third time, when she had not spoken soon enough, that found the poor Queen busily ill before the words were completely out of her mouth. Afterwards she apologized profusely, feeling much better, but the general said little. They rode into the castle, where a very aggravated Mrs. Badger was waiting for them, a sleepy Rosetta at her heels.

"To think, that Mari letting your Majesty go off like that…" Mrs. Badger fussed as she helped Susan back to her rooms. "Serves her right to be so sick."

"Technically she couldn't have stopped me," Susan reminded the Narnian, to which Mrs. Badger huffed.

"Well, I don't think there was a King or Queen that ever ruled that couldn't be told they were being silly, Queen Susan, and tonight was your night. Poor dear, you look so pale, Rosetta go get some water, I do think you'll have such a headache tomorrow, and that Caspian going out and getting you, now that's the kind of King I like, taking matters into his own hands…"

And on she went, up until the point Susan gratefully collapsed into bed and pulled the blankets over her head. Mrs. Badger could still be heard through the door as she and Rosetta left. It was the first night that Susan didn't think about her brother Edmund, or the Beast, or her own worries before falling asleep. And she slept so deeply that she barely woke when the door of her chambers opened, and a soft kiss was brushed across her brow as the intruder was satisfied that all was well with her.

"You were supposed to muss me," a sleepy Susan said, holding out her hands. "I waited all day." A chuckle came from above her and she found herself folded in strong arms.

"I had intended to tonight, dear," Caspian informed her gently. "But you had other plans."

"I am free now," she smiled up in the darkness, but he only gave her a light second kiss on the temple.

"You are full of drink as well," he reminded her. "I prefer my mussing to be remembered."

"I'll remember," Susan promised, but she was already almost asleep again.

"Another time, my queen."

"Did you thump them?" she asked, causing Caspian to laugh outright. "That would be unfortunate, they liked me and I have so few Telmarine friends…"

"Nay, my queen, but I gave them something more pressing to think about then taking your shoes."

"I knew I liked you for a reason," Susan murmured, then she yawned. "Will you stay with me until I go to sleep?" she begged, burying her nose into his chest and hearing his agreement rumble in his chest.

"Of course, dear lady." Susan hummed happily and burrowed in closer.

Caspian held her until her breathing deepened and slowed to that of peaceful dreams. And then, just because he wanted to, he held her a little longer.

* * *

"Okay," Edmund curled his feet beneath him, settling down against the gently running fountain. "Let's be reasonable about this."

He had run out of curse words some time ago, but it had taken him this long to calm down and stop trying to climb out of the Town. One has never experienced frustration until they have scaled a three story building only to find themselves back on the ground again. Edmund's choice of phrases had made even Trumpkin wince, and Reepicheep was still in shock. But now the monarch once more had control of himself, and he tried to reason with the Town.

"Obviously someone here is using magic," Edmund said. "And obviously this can keep going on until you lot decide it's not fun anymore or we die of starvation. That being said, I don't hold it against anyone. But I am King of Narnia, I have pressing business involving the White Witch, _and_ I am a Son of Adam. So you can play with us all you want to, or you can find out what we're about."

Silence.

"I doubt that this Town is as empty as it appears, and our swords are awfully sharp," Edmund added. "We could always just start swinging around until we hit something soft."

"We?" a smooth voice said from behind Edmund. Ed swung around, drawing his sword as he did. There was no one there, but he didn't lower his sword just yet. "I don't see any we, young king. I only see you."

Edmund didn't even have to turn around to know that Trumpkin and Reepicheep would be missing, but he couldn't help himself. Seeing nothing but the empty street, Edmund sighed and leaned back against the fountain.

"Alright," he said tiredly, closing his eyes. "I give up. You win. Har har."

And with that the illusion lifted. Spreading all around him was the Town, dark as twilight and pulsing with life. The main thing Edmund could hear was laughter, and he was sure it was directed at him. When he opened his eyes, he saw before him the thinnest man he had ever seen in his life, well dressed and white haired with the Townsfolk gathered behind him. Werewolves and Bats and Boggles and Incubi and Hags and Dwarves… everything was here. There was even a Cat or two. But Edmund found himself unable to focus on anything but the man, who leaned down and offered him one slim beautiful hand to help him up.

"See?" the Warlock laughed, his tone silky. "Was that all that hard to say?"

"Funny," Edmund muttered, accepting the hand up, wondering where Reep and Trumpkin were but unable to form the words to ask.

"Just because we're evil, Son of Adam and King of Narnia, doesn't mean we can't have a sense of humor." The man bowed mockingly, but then grinned and took him by the hand.

With that, Edmund Pevensie was drawn into the Town.

* * *

Something ice cold touched his toes. Caspian jerked straight up, reaching for his sword instinctively, and kicking off the blankets. Too many nights he had slept clutching the weapon, in case they were attacked by surprise. Too many nights he had needed it, and so it was second nature to have the point of his weapon poised at his assailant's head before he was really fully awake.

"Mew."

A round ball of fur looked up at him with large eyes. Then it batted its paw at his sword, trying to push it away. Realizing that he had drawn steel on a tiny kitten, Caspian sighed exasperatedly and dropped his sword back by his bedside. He had put the thing in a blanket filled box in the corner for a reason. Obviously that wasn't good enough. Caspian was now sure the thing was a Kitten, it was contrary enough.

"You," he said, picking up the kitten by the scruff of its neck and raising it to eye level. "Are as much trouble as she is."

The kitten continued to stare at him, so Caspian groaned and flopped back down on the bed, the kitten on his chest.

"You can sleep here if you promise to be quiet," Caspian said tiredly, closing his eyes. The kitten curled up in a ball, purring loudly. Caspian opened one eye.

"That's not quiet," he admonished. The kitten ignored him, flexing its feet and digging claws into his chest. Caspian winced and rolled over, tucking the thing in the crook of his arm. "Am I to spend the rest of my days at the mercy of you females? Go to sleep, kitten." It began to purr again, even louder this time.

"I am King, kitten," he reminded it sleepily. "You must do as I say."

It ignored him pointedly, although it did open one eye to see if it was working. Unable to stop the smile on his face, and knowing that this was as good as he was going to get, Caspian drifted back to sleep, unaware of the smug expression on the kitten's tiny face.

* * *

A/N Obviously I'm not updating as fast. The biggest reason why is that I've been busy with real life stuff, but another reason is that with all these different subplots, the chapters have to be larger to get anywhere. So yay for big chapters and boo for slow updates. :(


	12. Chapter 12

A/N Movieverse has the Pevensies older than canon, so keep that in mind. Credit to Sedri for use of the word 'brigandine".

**The Lost Chronicles of Narnia: The Beast of Witherby**

Chapter Twelve

His name was Malok and he was very beautiful.

Malok was too beautiful, for being a man. It made Edmund vaguely uncomfortable as he allowed the Warlock to take him by the hand and lead him deeper into the Town. Edmund knew Malok was a Warlock without asking. Even if he had met the rail thin man on the street in Finchley, he would have known instantly. It wasn't so much that he looked the part, it was that he radiated a sense of power that only came from those who have had overlong exposure to the effects of Magic. Malok's hair was snow white, and somewhere in the recesses of his mind that fact kept forcing itself upwards, as if trying to make Edmund make sense of it. Simultaneously something pushed that fact back down again, dismissing it and convincing Edmund that no matter what they had in store for him here, that he would be fine. He always was, wasn't he?

"Welcome to the Town, your Majesty," Malok welcomed him with the utmost courtesy, sweeping his hand out across the crowd of Dark Creatures that had gathered. "Your people have been waiting for you."

And they were. At least there were things waiting for him, but calling them people was a stretch. There might have been a few humans in the gathering that surrounded Edmund, but the majority was made up of that which caused nightmares: fire spirits, shades of darkness, ogres, the living dead… there were more than he could list and still more he could not name. Edmund had seen their like before, when he had been a traitor to his lord, and he had fought them bravely when they had sided with the White Witch. But having seen and faced them then and standing alone and helpless before them now was very different. Edmund knew that should they chose, his life could be ended very quickly. No wonder Maugrim had refused to accompany him here. Steeling himself and not giving in to anxiety, the King turned to Malok, who was watching him intently.

"_My_ people?" Edmund raised an eyebrow, wondering if it would offend the man if he dropped his hand. He wasn't in the habit of holding hands with anyone that wasn't a pretty chambermaid. "I don't remember hearing many of this lot pledging to the throne."

"Your Majesty is confused," the other man said in his lilting voice. "The Creatures of Narnia today are not the same ones that you knew of yesteryears. Your presence here has been most anticipated."

"You say that like you knew I was coming," Edmund said warily as he peered around him. Their numbers were growing as they emptied houses and taverns, come to stare at him. The last time he had been surrounded by this many Dark Creatures, he had been their prisoner. It was unnerving. "And I don't call that illusion very welcoming."

"We are the Town. It is our job to know who approaches us, and to test them of their worthiness to enter. Being the King that you are, it is not unexpected that you would have such little trouble finding your way through our simple test."

"Simple? I think we walked around this bloody Town for days before you let the illusion drop." Edmund was quite annoyed by that and Malok gave him an apologetic smile, showing perfectly straight white teeth.

"Only a day and a half, your Majesty," the Warlock clarified. "And if it is of any reassurance to you, most wander for longer before finding the key to unlocking the way into the Town."

"Key? I don't know what you mean."

"You will, Sire. When you understand the Town more fully, you will know how it is that you gained entrance," Malok reassured him, and then he pulled Edmund deeper into the crowds. They pressed closer, surrounding him on all sides, and Edmund could feel their presence just behind his shoulders, sending a warning chill down his spine. A Hag made a hissing noise as she reached out and touched his tunic, jerking away as if the red and gold embroidered cloth burned her. The rancid breath of a flat-eyed Ghoul made his nostrils burn and his eyes water when it pressed its face next to his. Repulsed, the young King turned away, only to find even more Creatures on his other side. Reaching, touching, grabbing on to him, dragging at him… Struck with claustrophobia, Edmund went to draw his sword reflexively, only to find the slim fingers of his guide digging painfully into his skin. Malok's grip was unyielding as steel.

"I would not draw arms within this group, your Majesty," he warned softly, pressing in closer to Edmund. Unlike the others, the Warlock smelled sweet and clean, a refreshing change. Edmund sucked in tight a breath, then another, and the brief fear he had felt eased slightly.

"No, that wouldn't be smart, would it?" Edmund agreed, feeling a bit foolish. "I'm just unused to such gatherings. Where are my friends? I would appreciate their presence."

Malok bowed respectfully. "I will have them brought to you as soon as possible, my King."

"Where are they?" Edmund felt another rise of worry, but Malok rubbed his thumb along the inner curve of the monarch's hand soothingly. As if on an unspoken signal, the Townsfolk began to fall back and give them more room, but the young King was already forgetting them.

"They came out of the illusion at different times then you, Sire. The Town is big and one can easily get lost without proper guidance. We will find them for you." Malok gestured perfunctorily, and two Bats immediately rose into the air. Feeling slightly better, Edmund allowed the Warlock to draw him towards a large building in the center of the Town. In front of it stood a fountain, smaller than the one he had leant against before, a simple spout of water. He stared at it as they approached, his footsteps slowing until he stopped in front of it. Such a mundane thing and yet he couldn't look away. The water rushed and sputtered, flecks of moisture hitting his face as he shifted closer, staring, staring... Like this Town, something about this fountain was fundamentally _wrong_.

The King of Narnia stretched out his hand, fingertips brushing through the falls. Edmund's eyes widened as he finally he understood. The fountain was flowing backwards.

"How--?" he started to ask, but found his words dying off once more as his eyes followed the drops up and up. Was it his imagination or did they linger at face level, eyeing him back just as curiously? Was it just his imagination or did they giggle and dance as they flowed, flirting as they drew him in? Why had he ever thought this fountain wrong? It was wonderful.

Malok smiled and let him watch.

* * *

"I have come to a conclusion about something."

Susan looked up quickly, slightly startled at the hardened voice behind her shoulder. Then upon seeing who it was, she relaxed. Somewhat. Thus far her morning had been spent alone up here, her thoughts only interrupted by the occasional rooster unable to wait for the rising sun and the pacing of the sleepy night wall guards.

"And what is that, my Lord Tenneth?" she replied, once more returning her eyes to the dimly lit horizon, off to the southeast and Aslan's How. The general took a step closer, and she could almost taste the bitter metallic tang of his armor on her tongue. She had come up here in her bare feet, and therefore even more than usual the Telmarine towered above her. Just as Caspian did... Were all these men so tall?

"I have concluded that the Kings and Queens of Old are always looking out into the distance, as if the land itself will tell them what to do next."

"Narnia is built on the magic of the land," Susan said quietly. "Is it so wrong to hope that same magic will give us guidance?"

"Most men look to other men for direction," the general remarked, his words slightly mocking, although towards her or himself, Susan didn't know.

"And we were not brought from another world because we are like _other_ men," Susan countered quickly, but then she flinched at her tone. She smiled at him apologetically. "I am sorry, Tenneth. I am out of sorts this morning. What I meant is that our experiences have taught us to look at Narnia differently. One misses much when they don't take the time to look and to listen."

He didn't reply, but his hand did stray to the hilt of his sword, and he gripped it briefly before letting his fist relax back to his side.

"What does my queen see and hear that the rest of us do not?" Tenneth asked, almost harshly. Susan didn't answer, instead she looked at him with piercing eyes. The general's jaw was clenched, his expression bleaker than normal.

"What is it that upsets you so, friend?" she asked. When he didn't answer Susan reached for his hand, only to have him shift away. It surprised her, and hurt her feelings some. "Lord Tenneth, I asked you a question."

"Her Majesty is too trusting," he told her coldly, still not meeting her eyes. "It will be her undoing."

"Undoing? I don't understand. Do you know something I don't, general?" At her words, he finally turned and advanced on her so aggressively that Susan took an inadvertent step back.

"I know many things," Lord Tenneth growled, leaning down so that there was no chance of any but her hearing his words. "And I tell you this again. You are too trusting. You place your faith in a boy king that sees only as far as your skirts and your brother's friendship. Considering the number of crossbow bolts that have accidentally dislodged lately, these are dangerous times to be overlooked and misplaced, my queen."

Without giving her a chance to reply, the general stepped past her and stalked off. The Queen watched him go, alone on the battlements, the light of the rising sun not warming her skin as she did.

Half a day's hard ride away, the High King watched the very same sun rise. He had topped the How, despite the difficult climb, and now sat cross legged at its peak. He wondered if Su was up right now. It had become their tradition when they ruled in the Golden Age for the two eldest monarchs to spend their mornings together this way. Since returning to Narnia they had not revived the habit, although on mornings like this he wished they had. It had been a form of solidarity between the two, who in most other ways had very little in common.

The Susan of then did not have the concerns that she did now, and there was a part of Peter that regretted that he had ever let her be taken from that time. It was a when in which she had shined, and no matter how much Caspian might love her, in Peter's heart he knew Susan would have been better off had she stayed. She had set her bow down for a reason, did not fight wars for a reason, and did not fall in love for a reason. And here she was in Caspian's time, doing all three, plunging ahead no matter the hurt it might cause her. Oh, how much he wished he could have told Caspian no. How much he wished that saying it would have changed things between the pair of them. But approval or not, Caspian wanted Susan and the young King would not stop until he had her. He was no different in that aspect than any of the rest of the men who had fought for Su's hand.

"What would you say if you could, old friend?" Peter asked a man long gone, absently rubbing a scar on his forearm given by the same man. "Would you call me a fool for not standing in her way? I don't think any of us could stop her when she wanted something badly enough, or had the heart to tell her no."

"Are you talking to yourself?"

Peter turned to see Lucy climb up the last stone, puffing a bit as she did. Being so small made such tasks much more difficult than they used to be for her.

"Morning Lu, you're up early."

"Not as early as you," she said, sitting down right next to him. The youngest Queen never did have a concept of personal space, and she never had felt uncomfortable sitting so close to another that they touched. "Is something wrong? Who were you talking to?"

"Someone who would tell me to do what my gut's been telling me to do for a while now," Peter admitted. At her confused face, he elaborated. "I'm just second guessing myself. I do it often, but don't tell anyone, it's bad for the kingly image."

"Silly, no one expects you to be perfect," Lucy told him, leaning her head on his shoulder, her eyes still blinking away sleep. "Except for yourself and Caspian. He expects it of you, and you expect it of him, and so you're both a pair of gooses because no one else expects it of either of you."

"Kind of hard when not being perfect gets everything so buggered up," he grinned ruefully. "I suppose things could be worse right now."

"What was your gut telling you?" Lucy wanted to know. Peter sighed and turned his eyes towards the direction of the castle.

"It was telling me to grab up Susan and get her out of there as soon as possible. It tells me to go find Edmund and retreat to the Woods where you all can be safe."

"But it's not very reasonable," Lucy decided. "You wouldn't abandon Caspian; he still needs us too much. And if you go back, then we can't very well abandon you, and so then we'd come back too. All you would do is upset everyone and give us saddle sores from all the riding. I know you're the High King and we have to do as you say, but can't we do something else instead?"

Peter stared at her for a second and then started to laugh.

"I love you, Lu," he told her, leaning over to kiss the top of her head fondly.

"I am very loveable," she agreed, a big grin splitting her face. The High King knuckled her hair to her protestations, enjoying the fact that at least this sister was still innocent enough to be eternally optimistic and young enough to not think to smooth her locks back down when he was done. That was why he had brought her with him, away from the dangers of the castle and safe beneath from his protective eye. His sisters had always been his to guard and take care of. Perhaps it was time to let Caspian take care of Susan, but letting go was hard. Lucy was his still, and the High King would be damned if he let anything happen to her.

"We should probably get back down there, it's breakfast time," Lucy reminded Peter after a moment. He nodded and bid Susan and Edmund a silent good morning. Then he followed Lu back to where his people waited for them. Their battle worn and life weary faces filled with hope as they greeted their King and Queen, loving them unconditionally as had their ancestors, trusting that they would not be led astray. Narnians. His people. He be damned if he let anything happen to _any_ of them. Yet despite his resolve, the High King found himself edgy and uncomfortable that morning. He was not able to discern exactly why. His eyes continually shifted between the direction of the castle, where he knew he had left Susan all alone, and the north, where they had last heard correspondence from Edmund. Something was not right… _something_…

Giving in to an overwhelming need to get back to the castle, Peter allowed them their meal then ordered camp be broken.

* * *

"Caspian?" Susan paused in the doorway to the throne room, just past the heralds. "Do you have a moment?"

The King was sitting upon his throne, head tipped down and lost in thought. At the sound of her voice he looked up, dark eyes brightening when he saw who it was. The interruption was uncommon. The queen usually left him alone during the daytime, because with the exception of having meals together, Susan was usually as busy as Caspian was. There were a hundred and three things that needed one of the Pevensie's attentions each day, and even when all four were present to divide up the work they were still busy. With everyone gone but Susan, and Caspian up to his eyeballs in his own work, the eldest Queen was required to take up the slack.

"Your Majesty," he rose and bowed politely, a pleased smile spreading across his face. He seemed to find such simple pleasure from her presence. "I had not expected to see you in court today."

It was true, he hadn't. Susan had said nothing of it at breakfast that morning. In fact she hadn't said much of anything, falling into an unsettled introspection after her conversation with the general. Caspian had ribbed her gently, taking her quietness as the aftereffect of her wine consumption, and Susan had done nothing to persuade him otherwise. In truth she had drank so much water the night before and this morning as well, that she felt somewhat decent. Caspian hadn't seemed displeased with her behavior the night before, more amused than anything. Instead he was more preoccupied with the plans he had for Drinian and Rhince, although he was a bit secretive about those what those plans entitled. Susan hadn't pressed for more information. Her disquiet had seemed to go mostly unnoticed.

"Am I interrupting?" Susan asked softly. It never seemed to have bothered her before, but today her tone echoed her uncertainty and he did notice that. Caspian stepped down the dais, meeting her. Susan dipped into a curtsey, deeper than normally appropriate for her station. It clued him in to her distraction, as did the way her eyes quickly darted about the room before coming to rest on his own.

"I do not expect Finderblast for another few minutes," Caspian told Susan as he smiled down at her. He seemed unable to drop the formality and although he did lean down and give her a kiss on the cheek, it was chaste and polite. "I am at your disposal, Su--my queen."

Caspian blushed as he realized at what he almost let slip, but Susan was too preoccupied to notice. Instead she slipped her hand in his arm, moving towards the row of seats that sat on the outside of the room for onlookers. Caspian had other ideas, however, and he signaled for one of the Faun pages to fetch a chair to be placed next to his own throne. They mounted the dais and Susan sighed softly as she sat down, arranging her skirts idly.

"They will talk about this," Susan told him as Caspian sat down next to her. He merely shrugged, as if 'they' did not matter. As it was, the best chair the Faun could find was still much shorter than his throne, so the Queen appeared to be stationed beneath him. Caspian fought the urge to make her sit in his place, but already knowing she would refuse, he did not.

"You are a Queen of Narnia," he reminded her lightly. "And as such, I would dishonor you to place you on the sidelines."

"And yet it seems that is where I am at," she replied cryptically. Caspian tipped his head, confused. A strand of dark hair fell into her eyes and he reached over to brush it back unthinkingly.

"I do not understand," he admitted. "Is something amiss?"

"I don't know," Susan sighed, slumping back in her chair. "My instincts tell that it is, but I look around and see only normalcy. Perhaps I fret needlessly because of Edmund being gone so long without word." As she spoke, several men entered the throne room at the far end, bowing perfunctorily towards the monarchs. It was the Lords Donnon and Hornabret, with Baerd and Tenneth a step behind. Caspian spared them the briefest of nods before turning his attention back to her.

"I have fought alongside you enough to not discount your instincts as needless fretting," he told her seriously. "Perhaps if you can give me something more to go by?"

Susan locked eyes with the stony-faced general, not responding, and Caspian followed her gaze. Tenneth bowed again, deeper than the others, before slipping out of view behind the lords. The lords were so subtly watching the pair that it was glaringly obvious.

"Queen Susan?" It was the closest he ever came to deliberately saying just her name, and it caused her to look at him and away from the lords.

"Hmmm?" Susan turned to him, pulling herself from her thoughts. Caspian gave her a reassuring look.

"They leave me unsettled as well," Caspian admitted quietly enough only she could hear, his dark eyes narrowed slightly. His voice however was firm and unyielding. "But they are only men, and they underestimate us all."

"Do they?" she seemed unsure. "Or do we suffer from the same self conceit? I do not know anymore."

A dwarf with a thick black beard entered the throne room, several of his kind in tow. Finderblast bowed to both monarchs, so low that his beard brushed the ground, and then his eyes flickered around the room suspiciously. There was no love lost between the Black Dwarves and the Telmarines, despite Peter's efforts thus far. But Finderblast had taken the High King's suggestions to heart, although Caspian was now stuck in a constant state of tug of war with the Dwarf, who attempted to squeeze as much as he could out of the smallest royal promises. In the Dwarf's hands was a thick stack of parchment and the King had a feeling that it was all detailed reasons for why he should evict his countrymen, mainly retainers of Lord Beard, from their homes. Suppressing a groan, Caspian turned back towards Susan. She was shifting and leaning in slightly towards him. He could see plainly now how ill at ease she was, but unable to question her further without making a scene, Caspian settled for taking her hand and squeezing it reassuringly.

"Would you hold court with me today?" Caspian asked her respectfully, aware that now they would be heard and that there was no use whispering private thoughts. From his tone it was clear that her presence was desired but unnecessary. "Or do you have other pressing matters?"

Normally Susan would have chosen to remove herself, unless there was an issue she particularly had interest in. But today she was feeling oddly disconcerted, and found herself uncomfortable with the idea of leaving his side. Embarrassment at her weakness almost drove her to her feet, but Caspian seemed to sense her conflicting emotions and he lifted her hand to his lips. Someone coughed, a bit too loudly.

"Stay, dear queen. Your attendance tends to either soften the proceedings or hasten them, either of which would be desired." He kissed her knuckles lightly, eyes deliberately on Hornabret as he did. Then Caspian added, "Afterwards I have promised the Herds we will visit them, at your pleasure."

Susan knew that was not completely true, only that she wanted to visit them and had not found time. But it was Caspian's way of telling her that the afternoon would be for them alone, and she managed a grateful smile. The lords of the council were not the only ones to speak in double meanings. It seemed a Telmarine national trait. Caspian squeezed her hand again before lying it back down.

"I will stay," Susan agreed, and then fell silent. Normally she was an active part of court when she was present, but today she simply wanted to be there. That seemed to please Caspian, and he gave her one last smile before turning his complete attention to the dealings at hand.

Despite him being a born leader of men, Susan knew that the finer points of being King had not come easily for Caspian. Still, Susan could tell a difference in him, especially in these last few weeks. The young King was changing. The first time she had seen him sit upon this throne, he had looked ready to jump right back off of it. The lords had taken advantage of his inexperience, mercilessly twisting his words and decisions until everything was confusing and convoluted. Reserving his thoughts until he was sure of his decisions had been the first thing that Peter had taught Caspian, for if there are no words they cannot be manipulated. The hesitant boy was becoming a confident man quickly, for despite the number of mistakes Caspian might make, he never forgot a single one of them. His mind was quick, as quick as even Edmund's, and he was learning to recognize when he was being cornered. In a number of things, he refused to be budged, no matter how hard he was pressed. And when Finderblast appealed to Susan for support to his requests, her only comment was that her weight lay behind King Caspian and had nothing more to add.

An hour later very little had been settled, except for the decision that something must be settled soon. It was an angry Black Dwarf that left court that day, along with a frustrated Lord Baerd and an amused Lord Donnon. Lord Tenneth practically stalked out when he was dismissed as well. Hornabret didn't cover his displeasure well at the attention Caspian was giving the Queen, although he himself made a point to greet her intimately, his words oily and looks pointed. It took all Caspian's strength not to order the man drug from his throne room.

"He glares at me as if I am a snake he must behead," Susan murmured to Caspian as the Duke finally left. "But then he speaks to me as if a favored wench he wishes to bed."

"The Duke would find his health much less robust should he try either," Caspian said flatly, unappreciative of Hornabret's comments to the Queen. "I am sorely tempted to remind him of such."

"We have enough worries without you calling out a man twice your age, Caspian," Susan reminded him, although for once she found his protectiveness endearing. "He does not approach me unless you are present. He does it to upset you."

"That is unwise of him," the King declared, shaking his head as he stood and stretched. Then he offered Susan his arm. "I have had enough of politics for one day, dear. Would you care to ride out to the Herds?"

Susan accepted his arm and the pair moved leisurely from court, ignoring the many eyes that watched them interestedly.

"You called me dear," Susan mentioned quietly. "It is a term usually reserved for a more private setting, considering that we are not more formally connected."

"I will desist if it bothers you," Caspian told her, but he looked at her in surprise. "I had not realized that it would."

"It doesn't, but you treat me as if I am _your_ queen," she explained, noticing the way her comment made his lips tug up into a smile. "And it… confuses the people. My personal feelings have nothing to do with it."

"And yet your personal feelings are what matters the most to me," he countered lightly. Susan stopped and pulled away from him, looking frustrated at his lack of concern.

"But they should not!" she cried. "Why is that so hard for you to see?" She started to walk away from him, only to be caught by the wrist and pulled back around.

"What is wrong?" he asked her calmly as Susan's face scrunched up. Caspian smoothed his other hand over her hair soothingly. "It is obvious that something is amiss."

"I am fine," Susan insisted, although by the tone in her voice even she didn't believe it.

"What is wrong?" he repeated, still just as calmly, and unlike her normal stubbornness Susan found herself giving in. She leaned in and pressed her forehead against his shoulder, slumping.

"I don't know. Everything feels off, like something terrible is happening," she whispered. "I cannot explain it, I just feel it. And it makes all else seem so wrong."

"If there is wrong, then I will right it," he promised her quietly. "But you must be strong this moment for we are being watched." True enough, those coming in and out of the throne room had paused to see what was happening with the royals. Susan immediately straightened, placing her hand against her temple and feigning a headache with such skill that he knew she must have done it many times before.

"Perhaps you should rest, to ease your head pain," Caspian suggested loudly enough for all to hear. "We can ride another day. I will have a healer attend you."

"That is unnecessary, Caspian. Some sleep will be good enough, and then perhaps our ride." Susan followed suit, allowing the King to take her arm and sweep her along the halls until they were out of sight. Murmurs followed their passage, and as soon as they were alone, Susan groaned.

"I'm sorry," she told him. "I usually am more composed than that."

"One misstep to my many blunders, lady," Caspian gave her a sympathetic smile. "Would you truly like to rest? As I said, we can ride another day."

"I need to breathe and this castle is so suffocating… Get me out of here, Caspian, _please_."

He nodded, understanding completely.

Twenty minutes later found the Queen on Destrier, her arms wrapped around the King's waist as he slowed the horse from its run. They had neared the far edge of the apple orchards, and Caspian reined in beneath the limbs of the largest tree, where the shade was deepest and coolest. He helped Susan slide off behind him and then dismounted, loosening the girth and unbridling the horse so that it could graze. In the far distance the Herd moved through the tall grasses languidly, and Caspian hoped his mount wouldn't embarrass itself by wandering over to them.

Caspian turned towards Susan, where she stood leaning back against the trunk of the apple tree. Her skin was flushed from the ride, and her hair wind tousled. If anything it only made her beauty that much deeper to him. He moved towards her, his only intent to simply get close to her, but she stepped forward and met him with heated eyes. Without thinking, Caspian took the side of her face in his hand almost roughly, tilting her head back and kissing her passionately. His other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her up tightly to him. Susan was clinging to his shoulders, her kisses desperate as she went up on tiptoes to reach him.

"You are so beautiful," Caspian whispered as they broke off to catch their breath.

"Don't say that," Susan begged, kissing his jaw and his throat. "Please… say something that comes from you, and only you." _Something that makes you different_.

Caspian paused for a long moment, simply looking at her with those gorgeous eyes of his. Then Susan found her feet swept from beneath her, and her back sinking into soft grass as the King laid her down. Caspian stretched out next to her, propped up on his elbow. He ran his fingers gently down her cheek, looking so serious. Susan almost asked him why, but he tilted her chin up with his thumb, brushing a soft kiss across her lips. She exhaled a small sigh, and he kissed her again, slow and gently, each touch of his lips more tender than the last. Caspian had not ignored her request, Susan knew. She had asked for something that came only from him and Caspian was saying it, the best way he knew how. Susan felt herself melting in his arms, feeling truly safe for the first time that day.

It was the best thing anyone had ever said to her.

They spent the better part of the afternoon that way, entangled in each other's arms, just enjoying being close to one another. Every so often the gentle kisses would turn heated, and the King would be forced to break away from her, unwilling to compromise her honor in such ways. He had only been courting her a few days, it was not appropriate for him to press their intimacy. Still… he could not get enough of her; the texture of her hair, the softness of her skin, the slight darkening of her lips, now swollen and gently bruised from his own taking them so often. Caspian felt as if he could remain like this with her forever, and his cares would never be able to overtake him.

Susan's hands ran over his chest, down his arms, around his waist to hug him tightly. Caspian said nothing of the way those simple touches, a tiny thing as a hug, meant so much to him. He, who had been starving for a kind word or accepting look from his family, had found only love and unconditional acceptance from hers. From Susan herself. It made him want to do everything in his power to keep her close, to keep her safe, to keep her content. She seemed more so now, for the strain across her brow had smoothed away. A selfish part of him had been glad she had seemed weak today and had come to him, and he hoped that he had been the cause of her cares lessening. He wanted so much for Susan to take as much comfort from him as he took from her.

"How do you feel?" Caspian asked her eventually, running his fingers through her hair gently. Susan was curled up against his chest, idly playing with the stays at the throat of his tunic. Neither seemed to mind that their finery might have grass stains from lying like this, they were too comfortable to care. Together they had watched the Herds slowly disappear from sight, their excuse for privacy gone in search of finer grazing.

"I feel better," Susan admitted. "Not so worried. Thank you, Caspian." He flashed a grin at her, the one that always made her unable to keep from smiling back.

"I get to spend all afternoon mussing you, and I get thanked?" Caspian chuckled and rested his head back in the grass, arms folded behind his head. "Well, it was a fearsome task, but someone had to do it."

"Prat!" Susan swatted at him playfully. "You're just as bad as my brothers. All you boys are alike."

Caspian flipped her easily, his muscles bunching as he leaned over her. "I am no boy when you are near, my queen," he told her softly. "Nor am I your brother." He kissed her thoroughly to prove it. Then he smiled sheepishly and rolled back, pulling her to his chest once more. "But this man knows better than to tempt himself too much."

"You believe you are the first to be tempted by me?" Susan asked archly, unable to keep from teasing him.

"Nay, lady," Caspian acknowledged. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers, a tiny hopeful smile on his face. "But I would be the last, if I could."

"Hmmmm… Lucy is right. So much nicer than the other boys."

Caspian remained silent for a moment, then he opened one eye and arched his brow. "The queen still thinks me a boy?"

Susan shrieked with laughter as she was attacked mercilessly by tickling hands, before being kissed into submission. It was times like these, Susan decided as she once more relaxed into Caspian's arms, that made all the difference. Off to the side, Destrier snorted and continued to graze, oblivious to the pair's antics. To the horse, it made no difference at all.

* * *

This Town was a nightmare.

It was like walking into a festival from hell, and even a Creature such as Trumpkin was overwhelmed as he shoved his way through the crowds. It had been years since he had been here, decades actually, and the Town had grown. Where one had once stood, twenty now pressed. It was as if all the darkest parts of Narnia had been called together, their presence making the air, the streets, even the very dirt black. The Dwarves had a history of opportunism, shifting sides as they so chose, so it was not strange that Trumpkin was there. However he pulled the hood of his cloak over his head to hide his face and ducked his chin to minimize the redness of his beard. It was not hard, there was little light to illuminate him, but in the Town one could not be too careful. Trumpkin knew that his contact with the Kings and Queens of Old had become legendary and he was one of the most recognizable Dwarves living today. The notoriety would not help him here.

The short Narnian sidestepped a wagon being drawn by a particularly moody Giant, and nearly stepped on a Toad in the process. It glared at him, and opened its mouth but Trumpkin had already slid past. The Dwarf kept his head down, not being a fool, and did not make eye contact as he threaded his way through vendor and booth. Since when had the Town become a bloody market? But then again, even this lot needed to eat. Trumpkin stumbled slightly when he caught glimpse of a Horror in a side alley, hunger in its gaze as it slid towards an uncomfortable looking Hag. In her arms she held a bundle that shivered and whimpered as it cried. The bundle shifted and he saw a tiny cloven hoof emerge. It was a baby Faun. Nearly retching, Trumpkin forced himself to turn away and keep walking. To try to save it would be a death sentence and not just for him. The King was here, somewhere, and if this lot knew who he was, then Edmund would be in trouble. If they didn't, well then Trumpkin's beloved King was probably already dead.

He had to find Edmund.

Trumpkin had no idea how he had even been separated from his companions. One minute he was sitting next to Reepicheep, watching Edmund talk to the Town, amused at his monarch's choice of phrase. The next he was in the middle of this mess, hopelessly lost. The Town was huge, much larger than it had looked on the outside. Trumpkin had taken it in his head that if he was the King and was still alive, then he might be at the heart of the Town. However with every turn he made, the Dwarf only found another stretch of street, each more stuffed with the kind of folk that he had always did his best to avoid. It wasn't as if he could ask for directions. The only thing he had going for him right now was that he could pass for a Dark Creature, and announcing that he was grouped with a human and a Mouse was as good as painting a Lion on his chest.

Trumpkin would unhesitatingly die for his King, but not because of stupidity. Reepicheep however… the Mouse was incapable of acting as if he belonged here. It wouldn't even occur to him to try to disguise his loyalty. Becoming separated was the very worst thing that could have happened to the knight, and was why Trumpkin has sat next to him in the first place. Now… now he didn't know what to do. He had been drawn here as a wide eyed youth, lured by promises that the Town was nearing a way to rid Narnia of the Telmarines. It was here that he had met Nikabrik, and here that he had found he didn't have the taste for suffering that some others of his race had. He had fled as soon as possible, dragging his friend with him. Trumpkin had never wanted to come back.

For anyone but Edmund he wouldn't have.

Now the Dwarf just desperately wanted to get out again, and for the love of Aslan! That booth was full of Bunnies, shackled by the foot to an immovable Magical rod driven into the ground. He couldn't stand their eyes on him, full of wordless terror. There was nothing he could do, there was nothing because he had to find the King. Trumpkin blinked back tears in his eyes and forced his way on, promising himself that one day he would come back and make this right. But now he had to find Edmund. Chanting it in his head, the Dwarf made himself ignore what he saw and, even more horribly, what he heard.

I have to find the King. I have to find the King. _I have to_.

Trumpkin felt as if he had been wandering here forever, and it was of no help. He had not caught sight nor heard word or Mouse or Man, and in his heart he felt as if he was running out of time. That his King was running out of time. Passing near a tavern (there were many here) Trumpkin noticed a familiar symbol on the sign. Deciding to take a chance, he slipped inside. Despite his carefulness, the door was heavier than he expected and it creaked and groaned as he shoved it open. The common room was half full and immediately he felt all eyes on him. Trumpkin muttered a curse and gave up trying to be stealthy. Instead he chose being disagreeable, throwing back his hood and stumping up to the bar with a sneer on his face.

"Give me a drink," Trumpkin growled to the barkeep, a Dwarf so old that his beard and hair had gone completely grey, hiding his association with Black or Red.

"Give me some money first," the barkeep retorted, rubbing a greasy looking rag over a pewter tankard. Trumpkin dug out a few coins, wincing because they were Telmarine silvers.

"We don't take that here," he was told, the barkeep's voice flatly unfriendly.

"Money is money," Trumpkin muttered, slapping it on the table. "I chipped my knife in the human I took it from, so it better buy me something."

The older Dwarf stared at him for a long moment, enough that Trumpkin began to wonder if this had been his worst mistake so far, but then a dirty tankard full of dark amber liquid clunked down in front of him and the coins disappeared.

"There's more money in live Telmarines than dead ones," the barkeep said, sounding not quite as surly now that he had been paid. "The Town's Keeper always needs 'em to practice on."

Pretending to care less, and not having the slightest clue whom the Town's Keeper was, Trumpkin drained half his drink. The place was grimy but at least the lager was good. In fact it was better than any he had tasted in a while. Humans and their watery wine… they just didn't know what they were missing.

"Well, this Telmarine didn't part with his coin easily," Trumpkin finally snorted, belching and wiping his mouth. Then he drained the rest of it. "And I travel better alone."

The barkeep said nothing, but didn't fight the money when Trumpkin put down more. A second pewter tankard replaced the first. With the warmth of the drink in his belly, Trumpkin found himself calming down slightly. He looked around, pleased that no one seemed to be paying much attention to him anymore. He was on his fourth lager, a suitable number to begin talking for his race, when Trumpkin added an extra coin to the pile he shoved the barkeep's way.

"I heard there's some strangers in Town," Trumpkin muttered, keeping his voice down. The barkeep pocketed the extra money without his face changing the slightest. Information was as much a commodity as alcohol was in here. The older Dwarf continued to wipe down his tankards, although it was possible he was only making them dirtier.

"Isn't there always?" the barkeep replied gruffly. Trumpkin looked at him pointedly. The Dwarf stared at him back even more pointedly. Sighing, Trumpkin put down another coin. This was rapidly becoming an expensive conversation. Trumpkin made a mental note to make Caspian reimburse him back as soon as he got back. They didn't pay him enough for this kind of thing.

"Stranger strangers than normal," Trumpkin said meaningfully.

"I heard that the Town's Keeper had a human for a while, but she didn't last long," the barkeep supplied. "Only a few hours. Sick bastard. There was a family of Fauns that got lost and ain't lost no more. That's all I've heard. Since what happened at the How, all the Creatures that can are flocking to follow those new Kings and Queens. They think they'll be saved or some such nonsense. Makes 'em wander this direction less. The Keep ain't been too pleased from what I've heard, and I hear more than most."

Trumpkin sat quietly, processing that. Was it possible that the King had found his way through the Town unharmed? Surely a Son of Adam would stick out here like a sore thumb. The Pevensies had this aura about them, nearly dripping in golden authority, and no one that looked at them could possibly mistake them for less than what they were. Well, unless they were a fool of a Dwarf, like himself. But the longer they had stayed in Narnia, the more they had shined, and by the time they had met Caspian there was no denying their royalty. The Prince had known immediately he had been amongst equals. Rumor spread through the Town like wildfire. There was no doubt now that those who might care knew that Trumpkin himself was here, and there would be no hiding it if the King had been captured or killed. So that might mean he had gotten through.

Filled with desperate hope, Trumpkin still made himself drink one more before he left the tavern. However once upon the streets, he nearly ran in the direction of the mountains looming above him. That was where Edmund would have gone and he would not be turned around this time. No one stopped the Dwarf as he stepped out amongst the boulders that edged the far side of the Town, and once far enough to be out of sight and earshot of anyone, Trumpkin called out for his King. No one answered. After searching behind every rock and beneath every craggy overhang, the Dwarf finally plopped down in the middle of the blackened path leading up into the mountains, his sword clutched in his small hands.

Edmund never came.

Feeling sick in his gut, Trumpkin sheathed his sword and went back into the Town to find him. He would never leave his King.

* * *

The caravan back to Caspian's castle was nearly to the ford at Beruna, when suddenly a huge resounding boom shook the very earth beneath their feet. The Horse that Peter and Lucy rode started in fear, having never felt the ground beneath its hooves give in such a way before. It leapt sideways, before remembering that it was carrying the High King and Queen of Narnia. Fighting instinctive panic, the Horse forced itself to stillness, only flinching as another such sound rocked the forest.

"What was that?" Lucy cried, her arms tight about Peter's waist as he fought to keep his balance. That was the thing about riding Horses, it was not appropriate to ask them to wear a saddle, and therefore they were much more difficult to stay on.

"It sounded like a bomb," Peter yelled over his shoulder. "But that's impossible. They don't have those here in Narnia!"

"It came from the direction of the river, your Majesty," a young Telmarine said nervously. He was one of three Telmarine that had accompanied the monarchs and the Old Narnians to the How. It had been an eye opening few days for Caspian's countrymen, and they had taken to having expressions of having seen it all. But this was new, and the young man seemed wary at what new sorcery lie waiting in these woods.

"Unhitch the horses and everyone get mounted up as best you can," the High King ordered. "I don't know what caused that up there, but I don't want anyone left behind if we have to run."

"What of the wagons?" Lucy asked as their retainers scrambled to do as the King said. Dwarves mounted worriedly shifting horses, Mice hopped on top of Cats, and even one Centaur pulled a Telmarine mason onto his back, the man's eyes huge.

"Leave them," Peter said, shaking his head. "We can always come back for them. Now move out, but be on your guards."

The order had only just left his mouth when an arrow went whizzing past Lucy's head, nearly scraping her as it bounced off a second Centaur's shield and causing a surprised yelp to leave her throat.

"Your Majesties! Over there!" One of the Fauns was pointing to a large group of hooded horsemen that had topped the rise behind them. A second arrow nearly clipped Peter's hip, as his Horse spun away from it just in time.

Peter drew his sword, but then realized that with Lucy hanging on to him for dear life, he was in no position to fight. Despite the number of Creatures with him, these were not ones that made a habit of fighting, and few were properly armed. This was the last place he had expected to be attacked, which he belatedly realized was naïve. Cursing at himself for his laxity, the High King swung around, yelling and pointing to the darker stand of wood before them.

"Head towards the river! Those with bows return fire, we'll make a stand in the trees!" The Horse leapt to do as he said, the rest of the company at his heels. Normally Peter would have been the first to turn and face his foes, but he couldn't risk it of Lucy. The Centaurs were part of Peter's guard, so they had the advantage of being able to shoot their arrows while running, but it seemed to not matter much to those horsemen that now swept downwards in pursuit.

"Who are they? Telmarines?" a Mouse demanded from the back of its Cat. A Faun cried out as an arrow flew true, striking him in the back and causing him to slump on his horse. The Minotaur next to him grabbed the Faun and threw him over his hairy shoulder, never pausing in his step.

"Can't be!" Peter said, more for the sakes of the Telmarine men present than for belief of the fact. The only thing Peter knew for sure was that the riders weren't there on Caspian's orders. The Horse broke into the tree line and Peter ducked low over its neck, trying to avoid being struck by branches as they plunged through the forest. Was this what it had been like for Caspian? Would it have been worse being all alone, or knowing that there was thirty plus lives dependent on you getting them safely away?

"Peter!" Lucy gasped, pointing over his shoulder. He turned and saw what she had seen, and another oath left his tongue. More hooded riders, only these were closer, their swords drawn as they galloped parallel to the High King. The foremost turned his mount, taking it straight for the monarchs.

"Hold on, Lu!" he cried, lifting Rhindon in a defensive position. There was the crash of steel and flesh as they went shoulder to shoulder, man and King, horse and Horse. Peter managed to gain advantage and struck the man in the face with the pommel of his sword, knocking him out of his saddle. The Horse aided him by thrusting against the other animal, making it stumble and sending the man headfirst into the dirt.

"Your Majesty! Watch out!" someone yelled behind him, and Peter turned to his other side just in time to see a blade coming Lu's way. It was too late to avoid it. Even though Peter grabbed the man's wrist and caught the weight of the blow when the hilt struck his forearm, bending back protectively over Lucy, the blade still sliced across his torso. However Peter had chosen to wear a thick brigandine of Telmarine make and it protected him from the worst of the blow, leaving a dramatic looking but not serious cut. A Cat screamed furiously and leapt at the High King's assailant, snarling and clawing as it drug the man from the saddle. Peter could have sworn the Mouse on the Cat's back grinned at him before they disappeared in a pile of rider and horse and Animal. Forgetting himself, Peter dug his heels into the Horse's sides, spurring it on. The Horse plunged ahead, using every ounce of speed that it had available.

"Should we fight?" Lucy called up to him, but Peter shook his head.

"Keep running!" he yelled back. "They're too good for our lot to fight! Those of us with weapons will hold them off at the Ford."

"But what about you?" she worried, clutching his clothes as the Horse ducked and darted out of the way of another rider. These riders were fast but the forest bred Animals were faster. "There's too many!"

Peter didn't have an answer, because at that moment the Horse had broken out of the trees. But instead of darting across the reconstructed ford, the Horse dropped its hindquarters and slid to a stop, its front end rearing from the momentum. The white of its eyes showed as it snorted in astonishment. The ford had been destroyed. While not nearly as grand as the one built by Miraz to transport his war machines, it had still taken nearly a month of work by Beavers and carpenters to complete. Where once the water spanning structure had stood, there remained only great spear sized splinters. It had literally been blown apart.

"Are you sure they haven't invented bombs?" Lucy asked breathlessly as the Horse dropped its front feet to the ground. Behind them the rest of the company crowded in, staring in shock at their escape route.

"Sire, what do we do?" the Horse asked, eyes rolling fearfully. "If we swim, the current will take the smallest of us. That or their arrows will!"

Peter bit his lip so hard it drew blood. Already he could see that some of his people were injured or missing, and exhausted from the sprint. The beating of hooves said that the riders would be upon them any second.

"Peter?" he could hear the fear in Lu's voice, and knew that it wasn't just her own life she feared for. How many had he seen? At least one rider for each of them. It was impossible odds. To turn and fight was suicide, but to cross the river without any protection was even worse. The water was high and the current fast. But they were coming… any moment now. The High King bowed his head.

"Peter! What do we do?" Lucy yelled in his ear, but Peter didn't reply. Instead he stared at across the river. He had so badly wanted to get back to the palace, so badly wanted to keep Susan and Lucy safe. But there was too many. It was hopeless…

They were crying his name, waiting for him to save them, the renowned High King of Old. But that was the thing. Peter had never been the one to save them. No matter what everyone thought, it had always been Aslan that had gotten them through. Peter had only been the means to which Aslan had accomplished his ends. It wasn't him at all, Peter had finally learned that lesson. He was not the one that could save them.

A flash of golden in the trees ahead, perhaps a play of light across the river. Perhaps not. Going forward was not a good option. There were too many boulders, the river too fast and frightening, and the riders were emerging from the woods behind them, ready to cut them down. Stand and die here or flee and die in the river… there was no choice. Another flash of golden, not enough to prove anything, but the beginnings of an insane idea appeared in his mind. Completely insane, yet Peter clung to it, praying that maybe just maybe…. There was nothing else. There was no proof of what he saw, no reason to believe the idea in his head would work.

For the High King the time for proof was done, and the time of faith had come.

"Lucy, close your eyes," Peter told her quietly.

"Wha-- why?"

"Just believe, sister. Close your eyes." He said it loud enough for them to hear. "Everyone, close your eyes and cross the river. No, don't question it! Just do it."

Maybe at another time they would have refused, but death was at their heels, literally. Peter's Horse hesitated and the High King nudged him gently on.

"Close your eyes and step ahead, good Horse," Peter said gently, doing everything in his power to still his racing heart. "I will guide you." The Animal snorted, then did as he asked, placing one hoof into the raging waters, than another. Behind him, the others bit their lips and fearfully did as their King ordered.

Out of them all, Peter was the only one who kept his eyes open, and he kept them locked on the place where he had seen… _thought_ he'd seen the only thing that could get them through this. He did not look down as the water reached his knees, he did not turn around when there echoed the laughter of men as they prepared the pick the Narnians off one by one. At the first buzzing of a loosened arrow, Peter spoke in his most authoritative voice.

"No matter what you hear, no matter what you think you feel, do not open your eyes. Just swim with all your might," he told his people, praying that he was right. They were all dead if he wasn't, including his sister. The river roared in his ears, water splashing up on his cheeks, and Lucy's little arms clung to him tightly. Lu. He loved her so. _Please, Aslan, _Peter begged in his heart._ Keep her safe_. Another arrow flew past him as the riders aimed for him and his sister, seeming to know their importance. They passed so closely to their skin that it ripped their clothes, drew blood from the Horse's haunches. Peter guided the Animal with his knees, sheathing his sword and holding onto Lucy's hands, his gaze unwavering as the golden flash began to grow and solidify.

More arrows were loosened, the air full of them, and suddenly Lucy cried out in pain as one cut her shoulder. Instinctively the High King turned to her, then he too gasped as one punched through his shoulder.

"Peter!" Lucy cried, but he shook his head, trying to fight back the pain. Someone else yelled in fear, and they could hear splashing as a Dwarf was pulled roughly downstream.

"Keep your eyes closed!" Peter roared, his eyes clinging to the spot the same way a drowning man clings a rope. "There is nothing to fear." The Horse was trembling as it swam, the sounds of arrows striking water all around them. But they were not getting hit… A smile touched Peter's lips as the golden thing uncoiled and he locked eyes with his liege. The Great Lion stood and waited, and his pleased look filled Peter's heart.

"No, Son of Adam," Aslan told him quietly from across the water, in words for Peter's ears only. "There is nothing to fear."

Peter was too overcome to reply, but his eyes drank in the Lion, much as his sister's often did. The roaring of the river and the sounds of the arrows had faded blessedly into the distance. There was only His voice. He felt that he could be happy staying within that gentle loving forever. Golden brown eyes seemed to understand and for a single moment the High King knew peace.

"Now, dear one, you must _run_."

The Horse's hoof stepped onto wet packed sand, and Peter looked down, startled at the jolt. When he looked back up, the Lion was gone. Then the pain of the arrow in his shoulder came rushing back and Peter hissed between his teeth. The Narnian's fell upon the shore in weak relief, but it was not over. Some of the riders had tried to follow, but their mounts had been swept out from beneath them by the strong currents. However there were more riders coming their way on this side of the shore, perhaps the ones that had somehow destroyed the ford. It did not matter who they were, their hooded faces told Peter all he needed to know.

"Run," Peter gasped. "We are not free yet!" The High King did not know how they would escape this time, his men were done. Still, he slid from the Horse and commanded it to fly, carrying Lucy along with it. The High King jerked the arrow out of his shoulder, swaying from the pain, and then reached down to pick up a waterlogged and half drowned young Cat, a Leopard that had saved him before. It was heavy but Peter got it beneath his good shoulder and lifted it up, carrying it as he stumbled into a half run. It was too much for him, but he still tried, struggling with every step.

"Leave me, Sire," the Leopard begged weakly. "I will do my best to hold them off."

Peter didn't waste his breathe disagreeing, instead topping the rise of the trees, feet stepping in great paw prints in the ground. The riders were almost upon them. Suddenly Peter was filled with fury and he set down the Cat, spinning and drawing Rhindon. They had just wanted to go home. That was all he bloody wanted! Was that too much to ask to be left to do so? Hoof beats echoed, as if all around, but Peter had only eyes for the hooded riders bearing down upon him. If he was going down he was going down fighting. The foremost rider raised his sword above his head and went to swing.

He never had the chance.

A piercing scream tore the air and suddenly a heavy grey body shoved in front of Peter, knocking him to the ground. It was the Stallion, Neeha. The Stallion leapt at the riders, great hooves striking viciously at both horses and riders. The foremost horse shied away, so fearful of this newest Animal that it ignored the whips and spurs of his rider. Then the fight was blocked from view as Peter found himself and the Cat encircled by a mass of Horses, nearly a whole Herd. Locked within a protective ring of hoof and flesh, the pounding of his heart and their beating feet in his ears the High King finally succumbed to his exhaustion and everything went dark.

* * *

The Mouse was sure that he was on a ship. As he opened his eyes, blinking rapidly in the dark room, the back and forth motion made his small stomach churn. Shadowy shapes rocked to and fro, and Reepicheep wondered just how it was that he had come to be out on the sea. Then as his sight began to adjust to his surroundings, Reepicheep began to realize that the world was not moving. He was. Reepicheep jumped up, reaching for and drawing his rapier. Unfortunately there were closely spaced heavy steel bars about him and Reepicheep only managed to clunk his arm painfully as he tried. Allowing the weapon to slide back it its sheath, the Mouse turned around to find out his present situation, and why it was that he could hear deep mumbling about him. What he realized filled the proud Knight with indignation.

He was in a cage.

It wasn't a very wide cage, but it was tall enough that he could stand up and sit back down. It seemed to be hung some distance off the floor and for some reason the cage was rocking, although the Mouse did not know why. Stretching up on his tiptoes, Reepicheep stood and craned his head, trying to peer downwards. He seemed to be in a hut of some sorts, for there was junk lining the floors and stacked up against the walls. A large lumpy shape blocked out the other half of the room, and he thought it a hanging drape of sorts. There were all sorts of tidbits, from brightly colored string to cast iron pans to… human skulls. What kind of Creature kept skulls?

"I say, knave," Reepicheep declared loudly, trying to draw attention of anyone that might be passing close by. "Release me at once! I will not go easy on you, but I will not prolong your suffering."

The deep mumbling stopped and the drape moved. A great eye opened right in front of the cage, startling Reepicheep and causing him to fall back against the bars. It was a Giant, and it was laughing at him.

"Suffer me?" it chuckled. A huge finger poked the cage and Reepicheep's stomach lurched as the thing started rocking back and forth violently. He gripped the edges of the bars to keep from being thrown about roughly. "Bleg no suffer. Bleg make dinner."

And so he was. The room was filled with an awful stench. If anyone has ever tasted Giant cooking, one knows that there are no herbs and spices in the world that can cover the taste of the stuff.

"If it is your intention to make me into a meal, sir, I will not go down easily," Reepicheep announced bravely. "No Mouse has ever made a gentle dessert."

"You would be one bite," the Giant seemed very amused by the thought of eating Reepicheep. "All crunch, no munch. Could pick teeth with your tail, little crunch."

Reepicheep gasped at the Giant's audacity.

"I would rather die a thousand deaths at the hands of my enemies than allow a monstrous thing such as you use the Noble Aslan's gift in such a despicable way!"

Bleg just pressed his face against the cage and grinned toothily, the stench of his breath causing Reepicheep to nearly swoon. The Giant chomped his teeth several times then laughed.

"Crunch crunch, little munch. Eat this." The Giant shoved something through the bars of the cage, and several large crumbs of moldy bread hit the Mouse on the head. They made a squishing sound and Reep realized in disgust that they were soaked with a kind of liquid.

"I will not, sir!" Reepicheep objected. "Now let me out! The King will hear of this, I assure you! Let me out! I will show you what Mice are made of--"

"Munch speak too much," Bleg decided, having named Reepicheep. "Quiet."

With that, the Giant backhanded the cage, which was hung from a heavy metal chain from the ceiling. The force of the blow sent the cage spinning and the poor Mouse was buffeted about cruelly, so much so that he was unable to remain consciousness. Reepicheep collapsed against the bottom of the cage, unmoving. Pleased that he had taught the Mouse its first trick, Bleg returned to his cooking, mumbling happily to himself a song about Sons of Adam and tasty treats. Thankfully that time, Reep heard not a word of it. Unfortunately the Giant would repeat it often and no matter how much the Mouse cried out for his release in response to such outrage, Bleg would only laugh and poke his cage. When he would not desist, the Giant would grow irritated and repeat his lesson. For the first time in his life, Reepicheep learned the true meaning of the word 'quiet'.

By the end, Munch was Bleg's favorite pet.

* * *

It was hot, even for this late in the day. Sweat rolled down the King's neck as he slid from formation to formation, controlling each minute movement of his body as he refined his skills with his blade. As was tradition for all Telmarine youths training to become swordsmen, Caspian had literally lived with his sword for a year before he had been allowed to ever properly wield it in combat. He had eaten, drank, slept, and even loved with the thing strapped to his hip. The movements necessary to control the weapon were so ingrained that he flowed in and out of the stances, almost unaware that he was doing so. It was not just a sword, he was not just a man. They were a single living unit, for one could not exist without the other. Just as with any trained Telmarine warrior, it had been forged for Caspian's hands alone, and it was Caspian's own blood that had been first shed on the edge of the blade. With a sword, the King had few equals, and fewer betters. One was watching him right now.

"You are faster," a deep voice cut through Caspian's thoughts. The King did not pause at the words, having been trained since early youth to ignore and respond to that very voice simultaneously.

"I have been training with King Edmund. He is the fastest swordsman I have encountered," Caspian supplied, never blinking as he lifted one foot up and balanced on the ball of the other, arm outstretched and staring down the length of his blade.

"He uses distraction to manipulate his opponents," Tenneth circled in front of Caspian as he spoke. "His body and his mouth move quicker than his sword. You would do well to remember it."

Caspian's arm began to tremor just slightly but he held the form, face smooth as he had been taught. _Show no weakness_.

"Am I to get another lesson, General?" the King asked lightly, voice not betraying the pain his muscles currently felt.

"I was beginning to believe the King felt himself beyond such things as lessons." That comment did cause Caspian's concentration to break, and he struggled to maintain form.

"I have been busy," Caspian retorted, irritation deepening his accent. "As have we both, Tenneth."

The General moved so quickly that Caspian barely had a chance to register he was being attacked before his shoulders hit the ground. He grunted as the air left his lungs, but recovered quickly, rolling to his feet to face the older man.

"What was that for?" Caspian demanded, eyes narrowing. Tenneth smirked as he continued to circle the young King.

"Have we gone beyond teacher and student, your Majesty?" the general asked. Hard cold eyes drilled into Caspian's. "I do not remember that particular decision being made. Prince or not, King or not, here _I_ am the one to be respected. "

It was true. When in the practice grounds, rank hath no privilege, only skill demanded respect. Caspian had never outfought his mentor and in truth he had never tried. But the Prince that had fled the castle was not the same as the King that had returned.

"And I am not to be respected?" Caspian countered, watching Tenneth warily. The man was dangerous, and it was something that Caspian had always appreciated about him. Of course, he had always seemed to be on Caspian's side, so the appreciation was dwindling quickly. The King could already sense where this was heading, although why it was happening today, he did not know. On the outside of the practice area, the pair were beginning to be noticed. Eager ears strained to hear what was being said between the two most powerful Telmarines in the country.

"I am not Glozelle," Tenneth growled. "I am not a lapdog to do as my master commands. My respect has to be _earned_."

"The same goes for mine," Caspian countered. Only he already respected this man, but the monarch's temper was spiking at the way he was being spoken to. "Are we referring to in or out of the arena?"

"Both. You have never properly shown yourself in either," Tenneth said, his words as close to Telmarine treason as any that Caspian had heard thus far. But in Narnia a free man or Beast could speak his mind to the King, so Caspian gritted his teeth.

"I beg to differ, General." With that Caspian leveled his sword tip at Tenneth, declaring his intentions. The older man barked a sarcastic laugh.

"You challenge _me_, your Majesty?" Tenneth smirked, but he loosened his sword in its sheath. "This from a boy who has had every blow against him pulled from the day he stepped in here. You have been coddled your whole life, Caspian, what makes now any different?"

"Because now I challenge you, General," Caspian said softly, his voice dangerous. "And you will see what I learned when I fought for my life and my kingdom, where I assure you no blows were pulled but my own." Raising his voice, Caspian looked at the few people gathering about, unable to hide their curiosity.

"I will fight with the general," Caspian declared sharply. "No one is to interrupt us… no matter the outcome of the match. I am his student no longer."

A mutter went through the guards when they realized the King's intention. These kinds of duals only occurred between highly trained fighters, the passing from pupil to a warrior in his own right. They had vicious and often had fatal consequences, but it was Telmarine custom for such a match to occur should a student believe he had moved beyond his instructor. Traditionally royalty was exempt from such things, for their protection. But the King was young and strong and confident, and perhaps his abilities did surpass the General's. No one contradicted him, no one could. Tenneth locked eyes with Caspian, and then a smirk of satisfaction spread over his face.

"Dangerous, your Majesty," Tenneth whispered darkly, drawing his sword. Caspian narrowed his eyes and shifted into a crouch, but a smirk played across his own mouth.

"You have no idea."

As one they struck.

* * *

Dark hair streamed behind the lady's back as she ran at breakneck speed through the castle. Holding her skirts up almost indecently, she barely avoided crashing into a pair of Geese, not bothering to apologize as they flapped their wings and scolded her as she passed. The guards knew her by sight and although alarmed at her scattered and frightened appearance, they admitted her at once into the Queen's sitting room.

"I would expect Peter to be back before nightfall, but no sooner. You know how he is when he is outdoors--" Susan was saying to Lady Gerdi when the door burst open.

"Your Majesty!" Mari gasped, stumbling into the room and nearly falling. Susan looked up in surprise, not having expected anyone to interrupt her and Gerdi at their late tea.

"Mari? What is the matter? Catch your breath first, dear," Susan added, but her lady in waiting shook her head violently.

"No time," she panted, hand at her chest. "Hurry, your Majesty, they are killing each other!"

"Who?" Susan demanded, standing up and setting her cup down hard enough that the remaining liquid splashed out. Mari looked positively terrified as she burst out her answer.

"King Caspian and Lord Tenneth on the practice grounds! You must stop them… he will kill him!"

"Who will kill who?" Gerdi wanted to know, jumping up. "The King is in danger or the general?"

There was no answer because Susan was already moving, grabbing Mari's arm and dragging her out the door with Gerdi in tow. The daughter of Galma might not have been in the best condition, but the Queen of Narnia had grown lean and strong in the time of battle and her lady in waiting was very fast. Therefore the two of them quickly outdistanced Gerdi as they dashed towards the grounds, Susan's Mouse guard in fast pursuit. As they got closer to the grounds, Susan was able to hear the shriek of steel against steel and a guttural cry that was very familiar from the battle at the How. The last time Susan had heard that sound burst from Caspian's throat, a Telmarine soldier's head had been severed and sent spinning away, Caspian killing a man before he managed to drive his weapon through Edmund's back. Regardless of what had brought this on, Susan knew that Mari was right. Whoever Caspian fought, he was going for blood.

There was a thick crowd about the practice grounds and Susan was too short to see what was occurring in the center of the circle. There was another cry, followed by a guttural roar that was not from Caspian, and the crowd gasped in concert.

"Let me through! Let me THROUGH!" Susan was yelling to be heard, trying to push through shoulders. Gerdi had caught up and between the three of them, the women managed to gain enough space so that Susan could breach the front of the gathering. What she saw made her blood run cold. Behind her Gerdi let out a cry and Mari had gone pure white. Both the men in the center of the grounds were nearly unrecognizable, being covered in so much blood. They were a macabre set of twins, armor and stances the same, the one having been trained to near perfection by the other. The only difference between Caspian and Tenneth was that the general's heavier body moved just a touch slower, and Caspian's longer hair fell in sticky clumps across his eyes as they circled each other.

"Caspian! Tenneth, stop!" Susan cried as she saw the two step out and swing simultaneously. Sparks flew as steel met steel, the men locked together as they fought for advantage. Caspian's muscles strained as Tenneth bore down, the King's sword edge scraping as it gave bit by bit.

"Caspian is going to lose!" Mari was tearing at Susan's sleeve, trying to make the Queen understand. "No one is as good as Tenneth!"

"Caspian is," Susan breathed, willing it to be true as she watched Caspian's arms trembling from exertion. "He nearly bested Peter… they will not kill each other."

Mari was screaming something, but Susan could only watch what was before her in growing dread. They would not, would they? Weren't they friends? But there was so much blood… Who were these Telmarines that they treated each other so brutally? For the first time since she had been in Narnia, the thought rose unbidden. _I want to go home_…

"--een Susan! You have to stop them! Tenneth is--" the words blurred as Tenneth landed a kick in the King's gut, sending Caspian rolling backwards. The general sprang forward, sweeping his blade in a downward arc as he attacked. Caspian just barely managed to roll away, the tip of the sword striking the ground where his neck had only just been. Caspian let out a roar of fury and spun, his legs entangling Tenneth's in an attempt to down the older man. Tenneth stumbled but managed to keep upright. Still the stumble cost him, and the quicker King got his feet beneath himself and sprang, uncoiling like a snake and latching his arms around Tenneth's waist. Both went down in a tumble of fists and metal, weapons slipping out of hands slick with sweat and blood.

Caspian ended on top of the general and connected several heavy punches to his jaw, but Tenneth broke the hold and grabbed for Caspian's neck, jerking the King forward and slamming his forehead into Caspian's. Caspian fell back, dazed, with the general coming after him. He only just managed to get his hands beneath Tenneth's jaw, pushing with all his strength and twisting the older man's face sideways. A hold like that could turn quickly into a man getting his neck broke, and with Caspian in such an obvious fury Susan couldn't help but turn away. It was the most vicious fight she had seen on palace grounds since… since Logan really, and that had ended in a dead man and another nearly dead one. In a daze, Susan turned helplessly to Mari and Gerdi and found her hand in pain as Mari's nails dug viciously into her flesh. Mari was desperately trying to tell her something.

"Queen Susan, you have to stop them! Tenneth is next in line! If he kills Caspian, then he is King!" Mari was screaming, her mouth almost on Susan's earlobe as she tried to get through Susan's shock. "My lady, _please_! They will only stop for you!"

Susan locked eyes with Gerdi and for a single moment both women shared the same thought. To go in there was _madness_. Gerdi watched as if in slow motion, seeing Susan blink and bite her lip. She was the only one to see the flash of fear in the Queen's eyes, and then Susan had spun around. There was a low stone wall that surrounded the grounds, affording those inside a barrier of sorts and onlookers a place to stand behind or, if they were especially brave, to sit upon. Susan scrambled over it, the hem of her skirt catching and tearing on the rough edging, her knees scraping as she tumbled to the other side.

"Caspian! Tenneth! Please, you must stop this!" Susan yelled at the top of her lungs, but her words were drowned beneath the screams coming from onlookers. In the time that Susan had looked away, Tenneth had broken free of Caspian's hold and both men were on their feet. The scream had been from the emergence of a dagger clenched in both of Tenneth's hands, and the older man was using all his strength to drive the weapon down towards the King's throat. Caspian had a hold of Tenneth's wrists and was pushing back equally hard. Susan hesitated, knew very well the dangers of stepping between two men that were fighting. It was absolutely foolish, and from the feral expressions on their faces, neither one was probably even aware of the mass of onlookers. They certainly didn't see her.

"_**Stop**_!" Susan was running towards them, not knowing what was going to happen but knowing she had to stop it.

"I am finished playing with you, Caspian," Tenneth suddenly snapped, relaxing his grip enough to cause the King to overextend, and dropping the dagger the General drove his mailed fist directly into Caspian's ribs. There was a sickening crunch of metal against metal against bone and Caspian went down on his knees, keeling over sideways. Tenneth leapt past Caspian, going for his sword. The King pitched towards the outside, taking a half stumbling step towards the other length of metal gleaming in the sunlight.

"Then perhaps we should end it!" Caspian cried fiercely, recovering faster than even the General had anticipated. Fists clasped around hilts simultaneously and with a roar of fury from Tenneth and a feral snarl from Caspian, the two blood covered warriors spun and attacked.

The Queen was in the middle.

Once a punch has been thrown, it is near impossible to take it back. The same exists for the swing of a blade. Neither sword was blunted and a gown does not effectively stop the slice of steel through bone. Therefore it was only through the sheer strength of will and arms that Susan's life was saved. Caspian, seeing at the last moment that she stood between him and the General and knowing his stoke could not be pulled, twisted his sword arm so that his whole shoulder was wrenched viciously. Susan cried out in fear as Caspian's sword swept past her hip, slicing fabric. The change in position of his arm skewed his balance, causing Caspian to stumble forward onto the hilt of his sword as it drove into the dirt beneath them. The force of the fall on his twisted arm slammed the bone out of the socket and Caspian let out a gasp of pain. Then Susan was shoved against him, and Caspian eyes grew wide as he saw blood splatter across her dress and her face. For a moment everything stopped and all he heard was the thudding of his heart.

Silence as it missed a beat. _Susan_.

"Tenneth!" Caspian's warning cry came too late, for the blows had already been landed. Then Caspian saw the older man hit his knees on Susan's other side, his blood covered sword dropping from his hands. Caspian grabbed for Susan, desperately turning her to find her injuries. So much blood. He didn't realize he was yelling her name until Susan managed to calm him by gripping his head, fingers in his hair.

"It's not mine, look to Tenneth," she ordered in a shaky voice, looking terrified.

"My queen! What were you doing--"

"Look to Tenneth!" Susan practically screamed at him, and Caspian noticed that the dirt at their feet was becoming darker red by the second. Rising to his feet and stepping over her, Caspian reached for his childhood mentor. The General was still on his knees, blood gushing from a vertical wound stretching from his hip to his knee. While Caspian had struck forward, the blow of one who would run a man through, Tenneth had struck downwards. Upon seeing the Queen, the only place to redirect the slice was upon his own self, and he had barely managed that. The other side of Susan's skirt was cut, through the outer skirts down until her last petticoat.

There was not a scratch on her.

"You idiots!" Susan cried at both of them as she regained her feet. "You foolish… _men_!" She looked at both of them, tears springing to her eyes. Then Susan stumbled away into Gerdi's waiting arms, her lady Mari's arm about her waist to support her as they led her from the grounds. Caspian watched her go, still a bit in shock, noticing for the first time that the practice area was filled completely full with gapping mouthed onlookers. Then the pain in his shoulder decided to make itself known, tearing from his wrist to the center of his back, and Caspian bit back a curse.

"Someone help him," Caspian growled, indicating the General. No one moved and Caspian didn't understand why. "Help him, I say!"

There was a flurry of movement as attendants rushed to do as he said, bringing forth cloth to staunch Tenneth's wounds. Caspian shook his head at those who went to aid himself. He had nearly injured the Queen… they both had. The pain in their bodies was earned honestly. But what had the Queen been thinking? She could have gotten herself killed! Suddenly full of fury, the King headed back towards the palace, the crowd melting away before his ghastly appearance and the scowl on his face. Slipping out of the castle was one thing, getting drunk was another, but this? This was too much! Caspian marched directly to her rooms, fully intending on giving Susan a piece of his mind.

It didn't go quite as planned.

Although, Caspian was starting to realize that it tended to go that way when dealing with Susan. He wasn't sure if it was females in general or this one in particular that caused him such problems. Susan just seemed to have this wonderful way of making his angry tirade wither and die as she stared at him across the room with unforgiving eyes. He didn't understand it. She was the one that had interrupted the fight, nearly getting herself skewered by two different swords at the same time, and yet he was in trouble? Oh no, he did not think so!

Oh yes, apparently, because Gerdi just politely but firmly shut the door in his face.

"My queen, let me back in, I need to talk to you!" Caspian banged his fist on the door, his good one at least. His other arm hung limp at his side. "Mari, Gerdi, I order you to open this door!"

"And I order you not to," he heard Susan say to them in a hard little voice. She was definitely mad. How was that fair? He was mad! She could have her turn later. The door opened just a crack and Mari slipped out, closing it before Caspian's craning head caught sight of her again.

"My lady asks me to tell you that she will speak with both you and General Tenneth later tonight," Mari dipped in a respectful curtsey as she spoke. "Once your Majesty has seen to his injuries."

"I am not a child to be placated, lady," Caspian growled. She raised an eyebrow, looking the King deliberately from head to toe, making him flush when she focused on the worst of his wounds and bloody parts.

"Then perhaps his Majesty should not act like it," Mari suggested calmly, but he saw the flash of anger in her own eyes as she dipped one more time and disappeared back into Susan's rooms. Wait, now even the ladies were mad at him too? That was _wonderful_. Cursing, he turned away and stomped down the hall. Unable to think of a logical reason why he should not do as Susan suggested, Caspian grudgingly took himself to the infirmary, where they were tending to Tenneth's injuries. Caspian sat across the room from his General, not saying much as he watched the older man get stitch after stitch in his leg, closing the long wound. Tenneth looked pale, but he remained stationary, barely reacting when the needle poked through his skin. A dwarf approached and set about looking at the King's arm, deciding that was more important than cleaning the blood off of him.

"You look like hell, Caspian," Tenneth said suddenly, causing Caspian to look up. The General was watching him intently.

"You do not look much better, Tenneth," Caspian retorted. "And you have not called me by my name since my coronation."

"That is because you were the King," he said simply.

"And today?" Caspian countered, his voice sounding harsh in his own ears. "Was I not the King still?"

"Today you were my opponent, a boy getting a lesson," Tenneth retorted, then flinched as the needle bit deeper into his flesh.

"I fail to see the point of that lesson," the King replied flatly. "You did not pull a single blow until the Queen entered the ring, and I fared well." Caspian hesitated before adding, "Thank you for that. She should not have intervened."

"She thought I was going to kill you," Tenneth said quietly. He locked eyes with Caspian. "She had reason to fear."

"Your words toe the line of treason, my lord," Caspian said softly. "Have I given you just cause for such?"

Tenneth said nothing for a long moment, not turning from the dark eyes that drilled into him. Finally Tenneth flushed and looked down. "Nay, my King. But I would have hurt you had you not fought to the best of your ability. I did not go easy on you, as was the nature of the challenge. If that is treason, than I am guilty of it."

Caspian let the words hang between them before he finally sighed, watching the Dwarf attending him warily. He knew the Narnian was going to have to put his shoulder back in place and didn't relish the fact.

"Then let us be glad that this is done with, Tenneth," Caspian decided wearily. "Today I have been taught at least one lesson that I can see. I have learned to respect your strength and speed, as much or more than I ever did as a youth. I shall have to practice before I challenge you again." Tenneth didn't look happy at his words.

"You were intended to be taught more than that, King of Narnia."

"Then perhaps I will be instructed by you again in the future, to greater clarity," he replied lightly, but the finality in his tone said that he was done with this conversation.

"Perhaps," Tenneth grunted, face returning to its normal bleakness. Caspian allowed silence to drop between the two of them, but he watched Tenneth. This man had been one of the few that he had trusted growing up, but it seemed as if he was seeing a new side to him and it was not necessarily a side that he liked.

"Caspian?"

He looked up as Tenneth spoke his name. Then Caspian cursed as sharp pain shot through his torso, the Dwarf having used the momentary distraction to drive his shoulder back into place. His eyes stung briefly then the pain melted back into a dull ache. Caspian shook his head to clear it. By the time he had, the General was once more silent and aloof, as he had always been in Caspian's youth. The familiarity should have made Caspian feel better, as it always had in the past.

For some reason it did not.

* * *

Peter had never liked the feeling of water dripping onto his closed eyelids. Unfortunately he had lost consciousness enough in his young, and not so young, life to understand the benefits of it. The High King knew from experience that if someone was doing that, moving your head would probably hurt, and it was best to open your eyes carefully.

"Peter?" He could hear Lu's voice. "Are you awake?"

"Just getting my bearings," he told her with a tiny attempt at a smile. The littlest Queen hugged him tightly as he finally blinked and opened his eyes.

"I was so worried," she admitted with a tiny sniff. "Almost everyone was out a moment or two, but you've been unconscious for nearly an hour."

"That's awfully embarrassing, then, isn't it?" Peter decided, groaning as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. He looked around, recognizing the place as where he had fallen. However there was only a small gathering of Horses now, along with his Centaurs and oddly enough the Telmarine men. As he moved, they all looked at him, and Peter flushed slightly.

"Where's everyone else?" Peter asked worriedly. He had known they had lost a few…

"I sent them on ahead," Lucy informed him. "Some of them needed bandaging up. Neeha's Herd chased the riders away, so we still don't know who they were. They were nearby and came when they heard the loud explosions. Neeha wanted to stay here with you and to take us back himself. Our Horse was done in."

"Is he alright?" The others were watching him and it made the High King uncomfortable.

"Just tired and a little overwhelmed." Lucy smiled at him, a funny look in her eyes.

"What, Lu? Why is everyone watching me like that?"

"You saved us, Peter," she said softly, taking his hand proudly. "At the river, you saved us."

But he shook his head.

"No, Lucy, it wasn't me." Then he grinned at her. "Or don't you remember who really won the battle with the White Witch?" Lucy's eyes grew wide, and then she laughed.

"Aslan!" she clapped her hands happily. "You saw him, didn't you? Oh, I wish I had. But I was so scared, and I never stopped being so until you told me to close my eyes. After that everything seemed like it would be alright. Do you know that only one got swept away by the river, and we found him not too long ago?"

"That's good," he smiled, then shook his head as he climbed to his feet. "They are still staring at me."

"I thought you liked that," she joked as he helped her up as well. "Being High King and all. You should see how that Cat was looking at you, he was nearly in love."

"Ha ha, now come on, we have to get back to the castle."

"Why? Shouldn't you wait before riding?" As she spoke the Stallion trotted up, listening. The High King grimaced and looked back at the river, and the destruction that had occurred there.

"I think we better get back now, sister. Whatever did that wasn't an accident. They deliberately trapped us. They obviously wanted us dead, and they nearly got their wish."

"They will have a hard time doing so while I carry you, Sire," Neeha snorted, tossing his mane proudly. Peter gave the Animal a deep respectful bow, to which Neeha seemed very pleased.

"It was only because of you that they didn't," Peter gave thanks to the Stallion, then helped Lucy up on the huge Horse's back. He swung up behind her and rode safely in the center of the Herd all the way back to the castle. If he didn't hold his breath in anticipation of attack the entire time, it was only because of the memory of warm golden eyes and the knowledge that he was not all alone in this.

* * *

The Succubi were dancing.

"They are very beautiful, are they not?" Malok asked silkily. Having recognized them for what they were, it still made it hard for Edmund to keep his eyes away from them. They were seated in a kind of smoky lounge, waiting for Edmund's friends to be found. Both were comfortably reclining on thick cushions as the female demons spun and leapt on light feet about them. In the background music played, haunting melodies of Old that were only vaguely familiar to the King.

"They are supposed to be," Edmund said wryly. "If they were not, then they would not be able to serve their purpose."

"And what is that purpose?" Malok asked of him, sipping slowly on a glass of thick red wine. Edmund gave him an amused glance.

"To seduce men in their sleep, to feed off of their strength until the men have nothing left and die. I am surprised that you did not know."

Malok's lips curved into a knowing smile. "And I am surprised that you would accept such rumor as truth, your Highness."

"Majesty," Edmund corrected absently. "I am a King. And what do you mean by rumor? Do I speak in error?"

"It would depend upon whose opinion you sought, sire," the Warlock said, eyes running slowly over the lithe body of the closest Succubus. "There are those who see them as little more than evil temptresses. But have you ever spoken to one and asked her opinion on the matter?"

"I wouldn't be so foolish," Edmund said, although his eyes too were straying. The one to the left was particularly beautiful, with shimmering auburn hair that reached her waist, held back at her temples by golden combs. Strings of golden bells bound her ankles and wrists, and he fought the growing urge to take those strings and wrap his fingers in them, trapping her to him with shackles of her own making. He forced his eyes away as she lifted her head and turned his direction, sensing his lust for her.

"Do you think a Succubus chooses to become one?" Malok commented lightly. Edmund tipped his head in confusion. "Let me put it this way, Son of Adam. Did you choose to be human?"

"I was born that way, Malok," Edmund shrugged, having never thought about it.

"So was she."

"That doesn't make her any less of a demon," Edmund declared, but once more his eyes returned to her, of their own accord. She was dancing closer, and he could make out the individual tingling of her bells beneath the louder music. "They are evil."

"What makes one evil?" Malok countered, leaning in closer. "Is it that she kills her prey if she is not careful? Men and Beast do the same. They do it more, for when they feed off the flesh of others, the one that dies has no way of recovering. There is no pleasure for the prey in the dying. But her prey enjoys every last moment until they are gone. If one must die, there are worse ways to do it."

"It is trickery, stealing upon a man in the night with the intent to bed them to death," Edmund held his ground, but only just. _She was so very beautiful_.

"Is it less trickery to stalk a deer or snare a rabbit? It is only primal instincts. Everything is the same, no matter its outward appearance. That is what we have come to realize here in the Town." As he spoke Malok handed Edmund a glass of the same thing he himself drank. Edmund eyed it warily, and set it down next to him. Malok only smiled, saying nothing about it.

"If everything was the same, then there would be no disagreements," the Son of Adam decided, having never been able to turn down the chance at a good debate. "There would be no fighting, there would be no wars. And yet there are. How do you explain that?"

"Everything is fundamentally the same, Highness."

"Majesty," Edmund said again, although he didn't know why he kept trying to correct the other man. Malok nodded, a smile curving his shapely lips.

"Majesty. As I was saying, everything is fundamentally the same. We have the same needs, the same wants, and the same desires. Neither Eagle nor Ogre seeks hunger in its belly or death in its body. And yet we praise the one and cast aside the other. For what? Appearances? Some of the most ugly have the gentlest nature and the most comely the cruelest."

"In Narnia a Creature is judged by its actions, not its looks," Edmund countered, although he could feel the lack of substance behind his words. There were those that were so distrusted that they would have never been given the chance to approach the throne. Perhaps that wasn't fair.

"Your eyes betray your thoughts, young Prince. You know the truth of it as well as any else," Malok spoke softly, silkily. "For as renowned as your deeds are in this time, that was not always so. But you were given a second chance. Why is it that these Dark Creatures should be denied the same?"

"They could always seek it," Edmund countered, feeling shame rise in his gut. Would he never move beyond the mistakes of his youth? "Aslan would give them redemption."

"And yet you do not believe that, it is apparent. You feel as if redemption must be earned."

"What of it?" he growled, not liking this conversation. Edmund picked up his drink and drained part of it, glaring at the beautiful man. Malok gave him a sympathetic look.

"I ask you this, sire. Have you earned your redemption?"

There it was. Edmund didn't answer, instead turning away. The other man shifted closer, speaking in low tones as Edmund watched the women--no they were Succubi, dancing.

"You have not, despite how hard you have tried," Malok whispered. "All the good deeds that you have done have not erased the evil ones. There is truth in what I say. To be declared a traitor as you were, there had to have existed evil done by you, my Prince. And yet you are not considered evil. Why should they be labeled so cruelly?"

"Then perhaps I _am_ evil," Edmund snapped back, shifting uncomfortably and finishing his drink. The redhead was pretending not to watch him as she slide seductively across the floor. "Perhaps we all are."

"Or perhaps no one is," Malok suggested, raising one perfected sculpted eyebrow. "Perhaps there is no Black and White, but only Grey. That Evil and Good are only a differing of opinions, built from fear and jealousy."

"I am not jealous of them," the Prince replied, gesturing to the Town outside. "Why would I be? They are not what I want to be."

"Truly." Malok's eyes were bright as he watched him. "They are less, that has been proven. Your eyes are set higher, and your Townsfolk will follow where you lead, Highness."

Edmund let it slide. The man must not be able to remember. He was a King… yes. He was a King. But who was he leading?

"This is not my Town and I lead no one," he shook his head, feeling as if it were heavier than normal. "Only my two friends, and we have to…" What was it that he had come here to do? Where were his friends? They might know. The redhead was so close he could almost touch her, and eyes the color of pools would not leave him be.

"Have those Bats not found my friends yet" Edmund asked, forcing his eyes from the dancing girl. Succubi. He needed to remember that. "I am beginning to think you keep me here deliberately." He thought about fingering his sword as Malok leaned in closer, but then decided that was unnecessary. Foolish, truly.

"The Dwarf has been seen leaving your Town, Highness." Malok poured himself and Edmund another drink, handing it over. "The Mouse is still being sought after."

"I wonder why he would leave without me," Edmund was confused, and didn't pause before drinking. "We came here for a reason."

"And that is?"

"It…" Edmund tried to remember, his memory cloudy. Malok smiled.

"It is not of import, my Prince. You will remember when you wish it. Please, enjoy the dancing until your friend can be found. They were brought here for you, since you have finally returned to your Town."

Feeling as if not all was right, Edmund leant back amongst the cushions and did as the other man suggested. Malok seemed reasonable enough, even if he did have strange views on things. Red hair fell across shapely shoulders and he tried to imagine her in his arms. How long had it been since he had bedded a woman, definitely since the days of… since a long time. But she was not a woman. She was something else. And she wouldn't even have him if she was, because who was he? Oh yes. That's right. He was a Prince.

"Where are we again, Malok?" Edmund asked softly, licking the thick red wine from his lips.

"We are in your Town, my Prince," Malok replied obediently. "As we have been for some time now."

"That's right," the Prince nodded, finally understanding. "I forgot. I wonder why."

Malok poured him some more wine, eyes burning triumphantly.

* * *

The King sat slumped on his throne, staring at the many stained glass windows that stretched above him. Off to the side, Lord Tenneth stood silently as ever, the King's shadow. Both men were sore but it seemed of little consequence right now. Caspian was lost in thought and had been for awhile. His solitude was broken by the throne room door being opened abruptly as the Queen marched in. Caspian sat up straighter, noticing immediately that she was still not pleased.

"I see that now you are both not drenched in blood anymore," Susan said in a hard little voice. "That's a bonus, at least. Now does anyone want to tell me what in the world you two think you were doing today?"

"I was thinking the exact same thing about you, your Majesty," Caspian countered, although his voice wasn't quite as hard as hers. Part of it had to do with the fact that she looked quite adorable when she was angry. Now that he wasn't equally unhappy, Caspian found that he liked the way her cheeks were flushed prettily. Perhaps he should make her mad more often.

"Me?" She seemed shocked that Caspian was turning it around on her.

"You stepped in the middle of two men fighting," he told her pointedly. "You are beyond lucky that you didn't get hurt, my queen. I would have thought you knew better than that."

Susan's eyes widened and her jaw dropped a little before clamping shut tightly.

"You mean to say I did that because I _wanted_ to? Yes, Caspian, I enjoy impending death," she stated sarcastically, but he could see that her hands were beginning to shake. "You two looked like you were going to kill each other!"

"It was a dual, my queen," Caspian attempted to explain, not understanding why she was so angry. She had seen him injured before. "It was only between us--"

"That's bloody point!" she nearly screamed, making him stare at her in surprise. Her voice quieted but not by much. "Neither of you had any right to do that. Neither of you! The High King is gone, Edmund is gone, and you had no right."

"I will fight whom I will, lady," Caspian said firmly, growing frustrated. "Unless otherwise commanded."

"You shouldn't _have_ to be commanded, Caspian. You should know better. And you, General," Susan rounded on the other man. "What right did you have to bear arms against the King in such a fashion?"

"It was a challenge issued by his Majesty," Tenneth replied, his face expressionless. Then he focused in on the Queen. "Do you believe that I would actually seek to injure the King unduly?"

"What am I supposed to think, my Lord?" Susan snapped back, gripping her skirts in white knuckled hands. She was obviously quite upset for her whole body was trembling. "Considering what it looked like and considering what you said to me earlier today."

"What did he say to you?" Caspian looked from Susan's strained face to Tenneth's now flushed one. He rose to his feet. "Tenneth, what did you say to her?"

"I merely pointed out the dangers of being overlooked, your Majesty," Tenneth replied harshly. "The Queen's considerable lack in judgment when she snuck out of the castle last night without protection is a prime example. I would have thought that the King would have been the first to remind her of the dangers inherent in Telmarine politics, but perhaps he is too blinded by the Queen's charms to be aware of it."

"I do not like your tone, old friend, nor your insinuations," Caspian growled, his hand on his sword as he headed towards the general. Tenneth held his ground, but Susan could see the muscle of his neck tensing.

"You do not have to," Tenneth shot back. "If you were any less of a fool for her, you would have had the Queen locked up in her chambers for that stunt! Instead you parade her before the court like a pretty bauble, dangling her like a mouse before a cat…"

"You claim I endanger the Queen?" Caspian demanded, face to face with the general.

"Caspian, Tenneth, again with this?" Susan cried. "What is wrong with you both?"

"I claim you let the Queen be endangered because you are unable to resist her wishes!" Tenneth snapped, not even trying to control his anger any more. "You would let this kingdom be brought to its knees, allowing her such foolishness. I have warned you before of that! The Narnians will _not_ take kindly to anything happening to her!"

"Is that a threat, Tenneth?" Caspian snarled, grabbing his general by the collar.

"It is an assurance, your Majesty, for you make it clear that anyone who wishes to get to you has only to go through her or her family. If it a matter of lust, then I will find you replacements to bed that are less risky than Queen Susan--"

"Enough!" Caspian roared, drawing steel. Tenneth flinched but stood strong, shaking in anger.

"Oh, _stop_ _it_!" Susan cried out, tears in her eyes. She had hit her breaking point today. This time she backed away from the pair, ready to call the guards to separate them. A small body planted itself between her and the men, Peepiceek's tail lashing as he stood ready to protect the Queen from whatever may transpire.

"What is happening here?" demanded a masculine voice from behind Susan. Peter strode into the throne room with the air of one who has had a long day already. His left shoulder was bandaged and he looked exhausted, but he did not need to see Caspian's sword to know something was amiss. The air in the room was thick with tension. Susan turned and upon seeing who it was, she threw herself into her brother's arms, sobbing.

"Su?" Peter's eyes narrowed at Caspian and Tenneth as she clung to him. She hadn't done that since the days of Old, and then rarely. "Why have you drawn arms, Caspian? What have you lot done to upset her?" Caspian, equally upset when he saw the strong willful Queen break for the first time ever, sheathed his sword and stood looking as if at a loss. Tenneth's face was bleak but he did nothing.

"I cannot take any more of this place!" Susan cried into his shoulder. Peter had his arm about her waist, holding her protectively. "The way they treat each other, I cannot bear it, Peter! All the lies, all the half truths. They hack each other apart for nothing but to see if they can." At her tears, Caspian stepped forward as if to try and comfort her, but he was stopped by the glare Peter leveled his way over her head.

"First the battle, then the Beast and Lucy, then Edmund, and… and you have been hurt as well!" This seemed too much for her and it brought a fresh wave of sobs from the Queen. Peter was forced to lead Susan apart from the two men, speaking in low tones to her. The High King focused on her solely for awhile, holding her and assuring her that both he and Lucy were fine. He seemingly was able to calm her enough to get an account of what had transpired. Caspian didn't hear what she said, but the expression on Peter's face grew grimmer with every word. Finally Susan stepped back, wiping her eyes and once more regaining control of herself. Peter gave her a gentle smile and reached out to dab a tear from her cheek.

"I'll make it right, Sus," Peter promised her gently. "Don't worry." Susan nodded, sniffing delicately and accepting his promise. In her distress, she was falling back into the Old ways of letting Peter handle the toughest things.

"I am going to bed," Susan tried to regain her dignity, and Peter dipped his head in acknowledgement. Then she turned on the other two. "If you must make barbarians of yourselves, then I will not stay to witness it again. Good night gentlemen." She refused to meet Caspian's eye as she turned and swept away.

"Lord Tenneth, please escort the Queen to her rooms," Peter ordered, his tone mild. The general immediately did as asked, following the Queen as she left. Susan ignored Tenneth as he did, choosing instead to stay close to Peepiceek. The Mouse glared at the general but said nothing. Being left alone with the High King, Caspian stepped forward.

"Peter, perhaps it is not wise to allow him--," Caspian started, only to have the High King round on him, all pretense of calmness gone.

"Three days. I am only gone _three days_, Caspian!" Peter declared, advancing upon the other King. "I entrust her to you and this is what I come back to? Do you not care for my sister at all?"

"Of course I do," Caspian replied, taken aback but still standing his ground. "You know my feelings for her."

"Then take care of her, dammit! Use your brain, man. Yes, she fought with us during the war, but she is not Susan the bloody Warrior. She's Susan the _Gentle_. If you're going to be an idiot and get yourself killed, don't you _dare_ do it in front of her. Don't make her a bloody part of it!"

Caspian was floored, standing there speechless as Peter raged.

"We need solidarity more than anything right now, and you nearly kill the general in front of the entire castle for what? For _what_, Caspian?" Peter demanded. "And now you draw arms on him again?"

"He… there was insult given." Caspian drew himself up. "As there was on the practice grounds today and honor dictated that I not back down in either situation."

Peter stared at him, and then suddenly began to laugh. There was no humor in it, but he continued to laugh as he stepped up on the dais and plopped himself down on the throne.

"An insult…" Peter gasped, shaking his head. "Su almost died because of a bloody insult."

"The Queen threw herself between us unexpectedly, Peter."

"And why the _hell_ would she have done that unless she thought it necessary?" The High King was once more furious, sitting up and snarling. "Is it that easy to draw you out Caspian? Is an insult all it takes? Just wait until all those lords get a hold of that information, since it is now public knowledge. You will be so busy defending your honor and her honor that you won't have a chance to do anything else. Forbid one of these sharp Telmarine blades accidentally _slips_. Do you not ever think to consider the repercussions of your decisions? If even in accident Tenneth had killed you, what would become of this country? Do you think the Telmarines would accept my rule? Do you think the Narnians will bow down to the council? You are the single most important thing in this whole fucking kingdom and you get in a _**brawl**_ with Tenneth because he _**insulted**_ you?"

Caspian was wilting before Peter, finally starting to understand part of what Susan had been so upset about.

"This is why I took Lu with me," the High King's voice leveled as he began to control himself. "Because as much as I love you, I just do not trust this place right now. Everything's so messed up and I can never tell what you're going to do left or right. I've got bloody crossbow bolts coming at me and I can't even tell anyone because it's the _least_ of our worries. I am more concerned with you flying off the handle anytime someone looks at you or Su wrong. And from what I overheard, the general had a point. You are too touchy when it comes to us, and it will be used to your enemies' advantage… as it has already."

"You were attacked?" Caspian stiffened. "Why was I not informed?"

"Why do you think, Caspian?" Peter let that sarcastic comment stand between them, until the other king had the grace to flush and look away.

"I should have been informed," Caspian stated quietly. "I would have made sure that Susan had more protection."

"If she's not protected at this point, then she's not going to be," Peter said flatly. "And if she's not safe here right now, then she needs to be taken someplace that she is. Because believe me, Caspian, I know my sister. She might be strong and brave and a leader, but deep down she needs more sheltering than this. The Beast incident scared her silly, you getting poisoned had her beside herself with worry, and the way everyone manipulates each other around here is completely foreign to her. She needs to feel safe, and if you can't figure out a way to do it without sticking her in a broom closet, then I will."

"You speak of removing the Queen from the palace," Caspian's head shot up, a frown on his lips.

"I speak of removing them both. Lu is as much at risk, more so because she is so trusting." Peter sighed and leaned his head against the back of the throne. "It is not your fault. This is all so new to you. And I have been holding things from you to keep from you becoming overwhelmed, but perhaps that was a mistake. Yes, there was an attempt on my life. There was a second one today. The new bridge at Beruna has been destroyed and we had to get past archers to make it back to the castle." Caspian's eyes widened at this.

"They almost had us," Peter continued on. "And I lost three good Narnians in the fight. They fought hard to keep us from returning to you. Someone is deliberately trying to separate the four of us from you, and I am beginning to wonder if the Beast was a random incident or not. Historically Edmund was the one who did such tasks for the throne that he is doing right now. But he is just as strong politically and it would benefit you if he was here. They are trying to kill me, and…"

"And what?"

"And the bolt for me was the same as the one that struck you and Susan." Peter leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "I believe the originals were meant for her."

Despite himself, a slight shudder went through the King. Caspian took a deep breath and hardened his heart.

"Perhaps it _would_ be for the best if the Queens were removed from the palace," Caspian accepted softly. "Where would you have them go?"

"Nowhere just yet. You need us more now than they need to be out of here."

"Am I so weak?" Caspian asked bitterly, speaking more to himself than to the High King. "That I must have the support of women and children to successfully rule?" Peter shook his head, looking at his friend seriously.

"No. If you were weak the throne would have already been taken from you," Peter said simply. "And you need the support of _Queens_, for that is what they are. But you are still inexperienced and even I couldn't tell you who to trust at this point. Out of all my years spent as High King, I have never been in a political situation as utterly complicated and dangerous as it is here."

"Then you should go as well," Caspian insisted stubbornly. "I will do what I can alone."

"I don't run from danger," Peter said quietly, looking Caspian in the eyes. "And I don't abandon those I consider family. I will support you regardless, but events such as these make it much harder to keep the peace. If the King and his own general are drawing steel with the intent to maim, then it is near impossible to insist the commoners control themselves amongst each other. I have learned enough of Telmarine tradition to understand the nature of the dual, even though Su might not have, but the Narnian people won't understand. They aren't as vicious a lot as the Telmarines, and it will only unsettle them more. I have pledged to see this through, Caspian, regardless the outcome. So I am asking… I am _begging_ you, brother. Please, think about what it is you do before you do it."

It was a name that Peter had never called him before, that no man had called him before, and the young Telmarine momentarily bowed his head before the honor and responsibility such a title demanded. It was a shaken King that raised his head once more.

"I will try to do as you suggest," Caspian finally agreed, his demeanor subdued. "I am well aware of the strife that plagues our kingdom. As you promised Susan, I promise you. I will do my best to make it right… brother." Caspian added the last part almost shyly, but Peter only nodded solemnly, satisfied. The High King stood up and clasped Caspian on the shoulder briefly.

"We will have to speak of the rest of this tomorrow, but I am near done with thought this evening," Peter admitted before trudging towards the door.

"Will you have your wound checked?" Caspian asked after him. Peter paused and shrugged.

"Perhaps. I have one thing left to do before I can finally rest tonight. It has been a long day."

Caspian didn't ask what that one thing was, he already knew the High King well enough to know his intention. And as the King of them all, Caspian knew that it was Peter's right.

* * *

"You should not be in here," Susan told Caspian as she opened the door, allowing him into her sitting room despite her words. The Queen was readying for bed, her hair down and brushed and her gown exchanged for a silken robe. He found her lovely, but that was not foremost in his mind. "Lucy is already asleep."

"I ask only a moment of your time, my queen," Caspian told her. Susan nodded and led Caspian to the chaise, seating herself next to him. She was much calmer now, and he wondered how much of that was her knowledge that Peter was once more in the palace. Suddenly Caspian found that he desperately wanted his own presence to give her such reassurance. They sat in silence for a long moment before anyone spoke.

"I think this is where we both apologize," Susan finally said, blushing a bit. "So I will start. I am sorry I yelled at you. Today has been unduly stressful on me, although I still cannot explain why."

"I was the one at fault," Caspian replied, shaking his head. "I have thrown you in with my countrymen without thought to how their ways might affect you. Having grown up like this, it is easy to ignore the more brutal traditions of my people."

"The hacking each other up?" she supplied ruefully. His dark eyes found hers, and she could see his distress that they had fought today. Truly it had been their first one. But the touch of a smile was curving his lips.

"Aye lady. That is one… brief way of summing up centuries of time honored practices. Hacking." He made a face, and she chuckled despite herself. "It sounds so unrefined."

"Aren't most men at their cores?" Susan asked, then regretted her choice of words as the smile faded from his lips. He looked so very serious. "What is it Caspian?" Susan asked quietly. Caspian took her hand, holding it lightly. Was it only this afternoon that he had held and kissed her beneath the apple trees? It seemed a lifetime ago.

"I just wanted you to know…" Why did words escape him when she looked at him like this?

"Yes?"

"I wanted you to know that I will take care of you," Caspian finally said, and he brushed a chaste kiss across her knuckles. "I am sorry I did not do so today. And I am sorry that I upset you. I am learning much more than I ever knew I needed to learn."

Susan said nothing, but she did lean in and brush her lips across his. Her kiss was not as chaste. Caspian let himself savor the feel of her against him for a moment only, before pulling back.

"You did not ask if I was still mad at you," Susan teased him lightly, but instead of flushing beneath her words, Caspian merely shook his head.

"I am finding that there are more pressing matters than that," he told her. At Su's little frown, he lifted her hand and kissed it once more, this time with more pressure. "Do not think I take your feelings lightly, my queen. I just… I just needed to make sure that you were not unwell, after the day's events. If you are still angry then I will accept it, just as long as you are well. I do not like being the cause of your unhappiness."

"I am fine," Susan told him softly, glancing down at her lap. "You just scared me, that's all. I have never seen you that fierce when not on the battlefield."

"I shall do my best to prevent a reoccurrence," he promised truthfully, aware that he had slipped too far into battle lust today. The general had just seemed to know all the right nerves to press to get him angered. Caspian held Susan's hand for a moment longer, suppressing the desire to take her into his arms and kiss her until this worry in his gut faded away. Instead he chose to leave her be. Susan sat next to him quietly, seeming to think long about her words before speaking them to him.

"Do you know why I was so scared?" she finally asked him. Caspian grimaced.

"Aye, because of the political ramifications of my actions," he acknowledged with a grunt. "Between you and Peter both the point has been driven home."

"I was scared because of _you_, Caspian," Susan whispered. "Politics have nothing to do with it. I was so afraid that he would hurt you. Mari said…" Susan drifted off, biting her lower lip unhappily.

"Mari said what?" he gently pressed.

"That Tenneth has claim to the throne after you. If there was ever a cause for an accident, that would be one."

"Many have near equal claims, my queen. You do not trust the general?" Caspian asked her. Susan just frowned unhappily, her eyes growing moist.

"I do… but I find myself doubting everything these days," she said quietly, looking down at her lap. "I don't understand half of what's happening, and that frightens me. I question everyone's intentions and fear that all things are a lie. I am not good in such situations."

Susan was growing upset again, but this time he recognized it for what it was: a young woman doing her best in a situation that scared her. He could relate. Caspian finally took her in his arms and she came willingly. He smoothed a hand over her hair and held her close, letting her feel the strength of his arms as he did.

"My affection for you is not a lie, nor is my love for your family," he promised her softly. "When all else seems uncertain, know that, dearest. The rest we will handle as it comes. Please have faith in me."

"I do," she sniffed, nodded into his chest.

"Then all is well," he whispered to her, tucking her head beneath his chin. Susan remained like that, allowing him to comfort her. She expected him to eventually kiss her, but he did not. In fact, as soon as her eyes had dried, Caspian reluctantly took his leave of her. He knew it was truly inappropriate for him to remain overlong this late at night. Caspian said his goodnights, and started to go, but Susan called out his name.

"Caspian?"

The King paused, one tan hand on the doorframe.

"My queen?"

"Thank you for checking on me." Susan was looking at him with appreciation. Caspian smiled at her, just a touch, once more almost succumbing to his desire to return to her arms. He closed the door quietly behind him instead. Momentarily he was struck with that same feeling of unsettlement that Susan had spoken of all day, but it passed. Exhaling, he turned to the guards standing beside him.

"Guard her with your life, Peepiceek," Caspian said with his heart in his throat as he left. "Guard them both." He needn't have bothered. The Mouse had planned on it anyway.

* * *

There was a knock on at the door, and the despite his desire to simply fall exhaustedly into bed, Tenneth opened it. Immediate he found himself grabbed up by the front of his shirt and shoved back against the wall. His assailant was shorter than him but strong, and his grip on the general painful. The door slammed shut as angry blue eyes met his. The High King leaned in towards him, teeth clenched.

"I care not for the games you Telmarines play, and I care not for whose side that you are on," Peter growled dangerously. "The intrigues will reveal themselves in due course, and it only hurts you that you are the first to draw such suspicion upon yourself. But I will tell you this once and only once, Lord Tenneth. Should I _ever_ find even the flat of your blade against the Queen's person again, I will have you drug into the streets and _**hung**_."

For a brief second the thought of sending this boy flying off of him darted through his mind. The High King, unwisely, had come here alone. But then Tenneth found the edge of Rhindon against his throat, drawn so quickly that he had never even seen it coming, and the thought was replaced by respect… with just the touch of fear as the blade drew a tiny trickle of blood from his neck. The Barbarian King had earned his name truthfully.

"_Do I make myself clear_?" the snarl from his voice was more ferocious and full of promise than any that had been uttered from Caspian's that day. Now _this_ was an adversary, and Tenneth suddenly understood what had made him such an effective King of Old.

"Yes, Sire," Tenneth acknowledged, dropping his eyes. The High King stepped back, sheathing Rhindon.

"I see more than you think, General," Peter said coldly. "You are not the first man to seek that which is above him. You will not be the last." With that the High King turned on his heel and exited the room.

Tenneth's eyes narrowed as he watched Peter go, but he said not a word.

* * *

The women were dancing, but his eyes were only for one.

"She is beautiful, is she not?" Edmund asked, lust in his eyes as he watched her move before him. The redhead was lithe and limber, and his body burned for her. He had bedded women, but he knew in his heart that this one would be one to remember.

"That she is, my Prince," Malok agreed, nodding his head respectfully.

"I think I want her," he said to himself, and the attendant at his side smiled.

"You have never been denied anything, my Prince," Malok reminded him. "This Town was built for you, and as such everything here belongs to you."

"I would be King one day," Edmund said quietly, taking a sip of his wine. Deep in his mind something was desperately trying to make itself heard, but the red head was walking towards him now, blue eyes locking his own. She was so beautiful…

"As I am sure the Queen will one day allow," Malok whispered seductively, his mouth close to Edmund's ear. "Until then, I would encourage the Prince to take all that he is offered, as his right."

Edmund smirked, his expression darkly dangerous as he hooked his thumb in the chain that bound the woman's wrist. He twisted the chain with a roll of his hand, tightening the metal about her skin as he drew her down towards him. She came forward willingly, smelling of honey and desire. Then, for a moment, he stilled.

"I am forgetting something important, Malok," Edmund said. "Something I should not forget."

"Then when the time is right, I am sure the Prince will remember," a silken voice whispered in his ear, reassuring the young man. "As he always does. Take what is yours, Highness."

And so he did. Edmund folded the girl up in his arms as he lay back amongst the cushions, her sweetened lips touching his, her hands moving skillfully over his body. Around them the women danced, the music building up to a fever pitch, driving them to leap and spin faster. Sweat dripped down shapely limbs and smoky eyes gleamed brightly at the smell of lust. One of them sank before Malok and the beautiful man ran his hand over her hair, almost soothingly. Then he tightened his fingers into her locks and drew her head downwards. Next to them the Son of Adam flipped the girl beneath him, pinning her down and kissing her aggressively. The Town's Keeper gave a smile and sipped his drink, momentarily watching before he too closed his eyes from his own growing pleasure. She had been right; the boy had been so very easily swayed. And he had come all the way to them, how convenient. It had been _too_ simple.

His Queen would be pleased.


	13. Insert Chapter

A/N **This is not Chapter 13**. Ch 13 is about halfway done. This is an insert chapter that you may love or hate, but it insisted on being written and it fits in with Ch 12 so well that I felt it acceptable to place it here. This whole thing came from watching cali-chan's fanvid about Peter and Lucy, "This Is A Call", and you can find the link to the video at my homepage. **Please watch** the vid first before reading if you will, because it is wonderful and then the fic will start off on the tone it was intended. This is set directly in Ch 12 of The Lost Chronicles Of Narnia: The Beast of Witherby. The next full chapter of Beast is on its way _very_ soon, Rhion is bribing me to ensure it. (huggles) I'm trying guys… these little digits are sore from typing so much. :P

**Beast Insert Chapter**

The great grey Stallion trotted into the empty courtyard, the ringing of hoof against stone sounding their arrival. The High King of Narnia waited until the massive Horse had come to a stop before sliding off, grateful to have earth under his feet once more. Despite the smoothness of the ride, it had been a long day and Peter was ready to crawl into his bed and hide for a while. Lucy had fallen half asleep during the trip from the river, and she blinked groggily from Neeha's back.

"Grab ahold, Lu," Peter told her, reaching up with his good arm to take her about the waist. Lucy wrapped her little arms around Peter's neck, careful not to squeeze on the shoulder the arrow had injured as he pulled her from the Horse's back. She had expected him to set her on the ground, but instead her brother propped her up on his hip, carrying her the same way he used to when she was very small.

"I can walk," she told him sleepily, "You're hurt." But she buried her face against his neck and made no efforts to be let down. Peter didn't reply, instead turning to the Stallion who had escorted them safely home.

"Thank you, Neeha," he said quietly. "I believe you saved all our lives today."

The Stallion merely arched his proud neck, dipping his nose slightly.

"Is there anything you need?" the High King asked his subject, although he already knew what the answer would be. The Stallion merely blew out a soft breath through his nostrils and said nothing. Peter sighed and inclined his head respectfully before turning and heading into the castle, Lu in his arms. There was a group already waiting for him, consisting of both his Centaur guard and some that had accompanied them to the How. Ironhoof stepped forward, still limping from his own injury obtained from protecting his lord. Peter had insisted that Ironhoof not accompany them because of the limp, despite his protestations. The Centaur said nothing as he fell in step beside the High King, but the fierce expression on his face was quite plainly read.

"Can you wait until tomorrow to lecture me?" Peter asked Ironhoof quietly, shaking his head at the Faun who offered to take Lucy. The Centaur grunted.

"I had planned on it, your Majesty," came the rumbling reply and Peter winced.

"Has everything been okay since we've been gone?" he questioned the Centaur as they headed towards the High King's chambers. This time Ironhoof's grunt was more of a growl.

"There has been much that has occurred. The Queen and the King are fighting after today's occurrences, and I expect that they will be continuing for some time."

"Do I want to know why?" Peter sighed. Ironhoof only smirked at him. "Well, I will deal with it later. Right now I want to get Lu put in bed safely."

"I can go to bed myself if you're busy, Peter," Lucy murmured against his neck, but the High King shook his head. Lucy had gone to bed by herself enough since they had been in Narnia this time. Things never stayed the same, but that didn't mean that they all didn't still need the same things as before. Lucy needed him more than the rest of them, beyond just the way a little girl needs her big brother. It was something that she had fought so hard to show him no matter how old she had been, and it was something that he was better for knowing. It was a lesson he would never forget, never.

He had almost lost her today.

The same thing had nearly happened thirteen hundred and six years ago.

* * *

--

**_

* * *

_****_0009 G.A., in the year of our High King under Aslan, Peter Pevensie_**

It was a happy time in Narnia, but for one young woman running headlong through the golden halls of Cair Paravel it was happier than normal.

Lucy Pevensie, Lucy the Valiant, Queen of Narnia skidded to a stop in the doorway with all the enthusiasm she had always had and all the grace she had always lacked. She nearly collided with a frazzled looking Faun holding a tray full of tea and biscuits, who didn't know whether to bow or jump aside, and nearly managed to land on his tail doing both. Unfortunately the action caused the tray to unsettle, with half the biscuits landing on the floor and the other half drenched in tea.

"I'm sorry!" Lucy cried, attempting to grab the tea pot before it too hit the ground. But she grabbed it a bit too hard and only accomplished spilling the rest of it on the Faun's finery. "Oh! Oh, look what I've done!"

The Faun gave her a long suffering sigh, for this was not the first time that the youngest monarch had gone too quickly through an otherwise occupied doorway and the occupant been the worse for it.

"It is quite alright, I assure you, your Majesty…" the Faun managed to sound only a bit peeved off, swinging the tray sideways and out of reach of her helping hands. "No, no I am just fine. Thank you."

As the Faun hurried off, Lucy looked after him apologetically, biting her lip. At the sound of low masculine laughter she swung around, her near collision already forgotten. She hurried into the room where three men gathered around the circular council table.

"That was supposed to be my lunch, sister dear," King Edmund said with a grin as he stood up, stretching his lanky body as he did. "Haven't all these lessons I hear you've been getting with Su given you any balance yet?"

Lucy let out a happy cry as she rushed up and threw herself into his arms. She had not seen Edmund for nearly four months and had missed him dearly. She had known he would be home soon, but not exactly when. She had just heard that he had ridden in. The King swung her around a few times, making her squeal before setting her on her feet.

"Honestly, I don't know why you insisted on that rubbish, Peter," Lucy decided as she hung onto Edmund a moment longer. The High King was concentrating on a map that the other man present had set in front of him, and he only spared Lucy the briefest of glances.

"Probably for the same reason that our lunch is on its way back to the kitchens, Lu," Peter said drolly. Lucy scrunched her face up and stuck her tongue out at her brother, causing the third man to chuckle. He was blonde and scruffy and looked like he probably should have bathed before being in the High King's company. Lounging indolently in his chair, he kicked one dirty boot heel up on the arm of the next.

"I don't think her Majesty's balance is in question," he said, sharing a look with Edmund. "I've seen the girl outride the two of us on more than one occasion."

Lucy smiled sweetly and walked over to her brother's friend, giving him a kiss on his cheek. "That's because I've had to fetch you two from the taverns on more than one occasion, Logan. A Badger could outride you when you are that drunk."

"When did you get them from a tavern?" That had gotten Peter's notice, and he split his disapproving look between the three of them. Edmund coughed innocently, Logan grinned unapologetically, and Lucy was the only one who managed to look abashed. "You're only seventeen, Lu, and a Queen at that. You don't see Su frequenting taverns, do you?"

"Maybe she should," Edmund joked. "Although I don't think she'd know what to do if she ever did."

"I'm sure you and Logan could explain what 'wenching' is to her, brother," Lucy teased, slipping out of reach, knowing that would certainly get Peter's attention. Sure enough the High King began to growl, causing Edmund to shift back a bit nervously and Logan to sit a little straighter. A melodic voice laughed from the doorway, and Lucy turned to see Susan standing there, arms crossed and looking quite amused at their discomfort.

"Yes, Ed," Susan encouraged as she walked over and gave her brother a warm hug, more contained than Lucy's but just as happy. "Do tell me all about wenching. Is it a sort of game you two have invented in your time away?"

"Well, I suppose you could call it a game. You see…"

"_Ed_." Peter's glare cut him off.

"She knows," Logan chuckled, smirking at the beautiful Queen. "No one is as naïve as she pretends to be."

Susan sighed dramatically and spared him the smallest of glances before turning back to Edmund. "I see you brought the riffraff back with you, brother. Were all the brothels closed between Calormen and Narnia or has he just come for the food?"

"Be nice," Edmund smiled devilishly and hugged Su to his side with his arm over her shoulders. "You are much smarter than him and it is not fair."

"Hey!" Logan complained, faking indignation. Lucy shared a grin with her sister and took the opportunity to slide behind Peter, draping her arms about his neck and hugging him.

"Oh, you aren't mad, are you?" she breathed in his ear.

"Would it mean anything if I was, Lu?" Peter sighed, his irritation melting. "But I need to focus, alright? This is kind of important"

"Lu, we have your lessons now anyway," Susan wrapped her arms around Edmund and gave him one last squeeze. "We will see you at supper?"

"Of course, Su," Edmund watched his sister leave with a fond expression on his face. As she passed by the table Susan put one slender hand on Logan's foot and gave it a not so gentle shove off the chair arm. The fondness on Edmund's face grew even greater as she exited the room. Lucy hung onto to Peter for an extra moment, resting her chin on his shoulder, than she straightened.

"Do I have to do this?" she asked Peter, pouting slightly and walking backwards towards the door. "She is merciless…"

"It's good for you," the High King insisted. "Uh, Lu? Watch out--" His words came too late. There was a clatter of plates and trays breaking on the stone floor and a small cry as hot tea soaked fur.

"I'm sorry!"

"We'll never get food at this rate," Edmund sighed, shaking his head as he watched his little sister try and help before being shooed away by the now very irritated Faun.

"Leave her be," Peter said firmly. "She can't help it. It is her enthusiasm that makes her clumsy, and I would never try to take that from her."

"Then why are you insisting on her getting lessons from Susan, then?" Edmund wanted to know. "If she doesn't like them and it won't help, then why make her?"

"Because it takes her mind away from other things," Peter muttered.

"Those being?"

"Those being certain young noble men that are way too comfortable in her presence than for my liking. Su keeps their boots knocking, but Lucy's sweet and innocent. There's only so much time I can devote to chasing away her suitors when I'm up to my eyeballs avoiding wars with her sister's." Peter groaned at the thought. The High King would take rampaging Giants over fools in love any day of the week.

"Why don't you just marry them off?" Logan suggested lightly. "They are both of age."

"Lucy's not old enough," Peter insisted with such vehemence that the other two shared a look, Edmund's eyebrow raising. Peter noticed and just sighed. "She's my littlest sister. I don't like the idea of random men pawing at her."

This got Edmund's attention. "Who's been pawing at Lu?" he was the one growling now.

"The last one earned himself a station in the North," the High King smirked. "Gives him something better to do as well. The latest hasn't been so bad, but I think it's because he's scared silly every time I look at him."

"Well, you don't need me off anywhere anytime soon, do you?" Edmund asked, a slow smile spreading across his face. Peter just shrugged, but his eyes danced mischievously from knowing Ed's line of thought. The younger king grinned enthusiastically. "Then I suppose I have to find some way to occupy myself, brother. Come along Logan, time to earn your keep."

"Are we going hunting for suitors?" the scruffy man asked hopefully, idly fingering the sword at his hip as he followed his friend to door. "Please tell me we're hunting for suitors." Edmund just smirked and the pair swaggered out, each nicking a soggy biscuit from the poor Faun's tray as they did.

"Don't kill anyone you two," Peter called after them, but he wasn't sure that they heard him. The High King didn't bother to send a messenger after them. After all, Lu _was_ his littlest sister.

* * *

"How exactly does this help me become more of a lady?"

Lucy had been wondering this for a while as she walked slowly back and forth across Susan's personal gardens. On the top of her head a book was balanced, and the weight of it was making Lucy feel a bit cross-eyed. The older Queen smiled at her sister's question and the way she kept her little nose bunched up as she focused on her task.

"I'm not actually sure, Lu," Susan admitted, shifting to find a more comfortable seat in the soft grass. "But they made me do it when we first came to rule. I suppose it makes you learn to walk more slowly and therefore more gracefully?"

"If you walk slowly then you never get anywhere very quickly," Lucy countered logically.

"As a Queen you shouldn't have to be anywhere quickly, there are others to do that sort of thing for you," Susan explained patiently.

"But that's silly, having someone do something for you when you can do it yourself." Lucy turned on her heel very slowly and started heading back the other way. "How many times do I have to do this?"

"If I set a number of times then you would rush through them, negating the point of the exercise."

Lucy made a silly face at her sister and then wobbled. Susan smiled smugly.

"As a Queen it is expected that others do things for you sometimes, Lucy. It is expected that you know how to show restraint. No one wants the royal figurehead to regularly be fetching their own suppers or rolling about in the mud without any decorum. It is one thing to do that when we are alone and no one is watching, but when the eyes of the country and other countries are upon us, we have to make Narnia look as stately as anywhere else. You're not a little girl anymore."

"So Peter has decided," Lucy grew bored with walking and decided to balance on one foot for awhile.

"What has Peter decided?"

"He acts as if I am all different now, and that he must treat me differently. Honestly, Su, I am just the same as I have ever been." Balancing grew boring as well so Lucy tried to skip. It didn't quite work out as planned. At Susan's pointed look she blushed and leaned down to grab the book, placing it back on her head and walking slowly once more.

"The company you keep is not the same, sister," Susan smiled gently. "Honestly, I was wondering how long it would be before you noticed boys."

Lucy grinned and gave up with the book, coming to flop down on the grass next to Susan.

"Oh, I noticed them long before Peter caught me noticing," Lucy admitted slyly, sharing her secret. "But I knew he wouldn't like it, so I hid it for awhile. But then that beautiful boy from Archenland…"

Lucy hugged the book, sighing in remembrance. Susan laughed at the sight of her sister swooning in memory.

"The one that is stationed in the North for the next three years?" she prodded and Lucy grimaced.

"Peter was so mean about it, too. He had him about in tears as if he had done something terrible by kissing me."

"You're lucky," Susan smiled. "The first boy that he caught kissing me got punched in the face and kicked around a bit. Our brother has more restraint than he used to."

"Yes, but I bet Peter's already set Edmund on suitor detail," Lucy lay backwards on the grass, arms spread out beneath the warm sun. "He's the _really_ mean one, and I don't want to know what he will do to my newest suitor. Stefan asked me to walk with him this afternoon, and he is so very sweet…"

"Oh, Lucy, don't worry," Susan tried to reassure her. "I've met Stefan and I agree, he wouldn't hurt a fly. They won't be too terrible to him."

"Do you think?" Lucy asked hopefully. Susan nodded firmly.

"I know."

* * *

There is something about putting a rascal and a scoundrel together. If they don't kill each other than they often become friends, working off each other's worst traits until the pair you have left is truly deplorable. In this Edmund and Logan were a match made in heaven, and together they could badger, bully, connive, convince, entertain, and wreak havoc with the best of them. They found poor Stefan in the stables, readying his charger for a ride.

They were merciless.

Lucy wasn't aware of what they had said, or more importantly, what they had done when they said it. All she knew was that her very sweet new suitor was a bundle of nerves and stutters when she went to meet him later that day. After only a few minutes the poor boy fled her presence, leaving her confused and more than a little hurt. But it didn't take her long to think that she had figured it out and the youngest Queen marched straight to her brother's rooms, where the High King was taking a much needed nap.

"Peter!" Lucy stepped into the sitting room, causing him to sit up in surprise at the anger in her voice. Lucy was never angry. "What did you say to Stefan?"

"Huh?" he blinked sleepily, rubbing his forehead. "What was that Lu?"

"Stefan. What did you say to him? He was terrified just sitting and talking with me!" She marched to the chaise and stood with her hands on her hips.

"Oh. Yeah. Good," Peter decided that all was right in the world and laid back down, closing his eyes.

"Peter! You're so mean," Lucy stamped her little foot, and her voice started to quiver. "I liked him and now he thinks I'm awful…"

"No one thinks you're awful, sister dear. You're too cute to be awful." At her lack of response the High King opened one eye, then he sighed as he saw her lower lip pushing out ever so slightly. "Come here," he told her. Lucy just stuck her lip out more and Peter groaned, sitting back up. He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him, so that she was sitting down next to him. Never having been one to wake quickly, he blinked a couple times and yawned.

"Why exactly are you mad at me?" he asked, having learned from Susan that it was better to just hear it as opposed to waste time guessing. He was never correct anyway. The tiredness in his voice made her anger seep away, but it still didn't mean her feelings weren't hurt.

"I'm not mad," Lucy said, looking sadly at her lap. "But I liked him. Just like the boy from Archenland."

"You can do better, Lu," Peter assured her, holding her hand comfortingly. "You don't have to settle for the first bloke that comes along."

Lucy sniffed and hid her face from him, saying something so quiet that he did not hear.

"What was that?" he pressed, squeezing her fingers. "Lu?"

"I said that I am not Susan, Peter." Lucy was speaking quietly, but Peter could hear the underlying hurt in her voice. "I know that most of those that approach you for my hand only do so because Su turned them down. I know you try to hide that from me to make me feel better, but I figured it out a while ago. I'm not stupid; I know I should have many more suitors than I do."

"Lucy…" There wasn't much he could say, because it was true. It wasn't that his sister wasn't pretty, but she had spoken correctly. She wasn't Susan.

"But Stefan really liked me, and I might have liked him too." Lucy sniffed again. "It isn't fair to scare him the way that you did."

"The good ones don't run away, Lucy," Peter told her gently, sitting up enough that he could fold her up in his arms. Lucy came willingly, burying her nose into his chest. She had hid there from the world for a lot of years and it seemed that age did not matter when she needed holding. "When one is worthy enough, he won't be deterred by anything that we could say to him."

"It's not fair," Lucy whispered, her words for his ears only. She would never admit her secret jealousies of her sister to anyone else, not even to Edmund. Peter held her tighter and smoothed a hand over her hair.

"I know, sweetie, I know."

* * *

--

* * *

Peter let Ironhoof open the door for him, then stepped through it and heard it shut behind him. He paused for a moment in the sitting room of his chambers, thinking back to another room that was so similar but not the same. Never the same as it used to be. Lucy made a sleepy noise and Peter carried her through into his bedroom, bypassing the chaise. He'd sleep there tonight, if he managed to get any sleep at all. Lucy would be better if she had the bed. It had never occurred to him to take her to her own rooms. Secretly he hated the idea of either of his sisters sleeping there anymore, after being attacked by the Beast, but he didn't want to scare them more by insisting they change rooms. Susan and Lucy could both be very stubborn, so he never knew just how bothered they still were by it. But if Susan and Caspian were fighting, the last thing Lu needed was to deal with that after the stress of the day. The littlest Queen had been through enough for one so small.

The High King set his sister down on the large bed, making sure her head rested on one of the many pillows. She opened her eyes, blinking sleepily and not letting go even after she was laid down.

"Don't leave," she asked in a little voice. Peter sighed, knowing that he really needed to. He had to find out what was so bloody wrong that it would have his sister and his friend so upset. But Lucy needed him too. And he so hated to let her down.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, tucking the covers around her and lying down next to her on top of the blankets. She looked lost in the bedding, with just her head and arms sticking out. She still had hold of him, and the position was uncomfortable on his injured arm.

"I was scared today," Lucy whispered to him. Peter smoothed his hand over her brow, brushing back an errant strand of hair from her eyes.

"It was a scary thing," he admitted. "I wasn't sure myself for a while there."

"What was the scariest for you?" she wanted to know. "When you were standing alone at the end?"

Peter grinned ruefully and shook his head. "No, actually by that point I was just plain mad. I just wanted to get home and they weren't letting me."

"You're so brave," Lucy smiled at her big brother proudly. Peter let himself enjoy that smile, to take heart from it. He needed that more than he ever let them know, not for his ego but for his strength to keep going on.

"Not brave, Lu," he admitted. "But I had a lot to lose and I wasn't ready to lose it."

They remained quiet for a while, and Peter had thought that she had fallen asleep. He disentangled himself from her arms and stood up, blowing out the candles by the head of the bed. He started to leave but her voice made him pause.

"The scariest for me was when you got off the Horse and told it to go on without you," Lucy whispered in the darkness. "I told it to turn around but it wouldn't."

"Why was that the scariest?" Peter asked her, although he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

"I hate it when I have to go on without you. I don't know how."

Her child's voice sounded much older than it should and Peter moved back to the bed, leaning over and kissing her gently on the head.

"Don't leave yet."

And so he didn't.

* * *

--

* * *

His name was Jonah and he was quite taken with the Queen. Having snuck to the back of the stables with the young soldier more than once, Lucy was finding that she was quite taken with him as well. Jonah had shown up not too long after Edmund had run Stefan off (Lu was still embarrassed that she had blamed Peter for it, and more embarrassed that he had let her.). He was good looking, nearly as much as the men that regularly followed Susan around, but he was different. Why? Because when Susan walked into a room and Lucy checked to see if Jonah was watching her like everyone else did, the soldier was always still smiling at Lucy. Always polite and respectful, he still knew how to make her laugh and make her melt beneath his kisses. He was new to Cair Paravel, one of the many palace guards, but he had always seemed to know how to catch her eye. Lucy was not so stuffy to think herself above the commoners, and had given the young man a chance. And now that he had her, Jonah seemed very intent on not letting her go.

"Jonah, let go," Lucy breathed, not really meaning it as the young man kissed a trail down her neck. "I must get back, we are dining in the Great Hall tonight. You know what happened the last time I was late staying with you."

He chuckled in her ear, fingertips lightly stroking her sides, a skillful promise that he was capable of much more than kisses in the hay should she decide to let him.

"I am not afraid of the King," Jonah told her firmly. "He doesn't hit nearly as hard as he thinks he does."

Lucy giggled, then sighed as he kissed her again. She momentarily forgot what they had been talking about, not remembering until they broke away for air.

"Don't let Ed hear you saying that. I think he's been pulling those punches, but it won't take much to change his mind. Jonah, I'm sorry. I _must_ go."

"Will I see you later?" he asked her softly, taking her face in his hands and brushing a kiss across her brow. Melting…

"Hmm?"

"Later tonight, my dear Queen?" Jonah pressed intently. "Will you come here to meet me again?"

"Okay." Lucy caved at the way he was looking at her. Surely not even Susan had ever had a man look at her like this.

"Promise?" he begged, looking a bit like a puppy, and it made her laugh and throw her arms about his neck.

"I swear it, good sir," Lucy told him, hugging him tightly before slipping out of his muscled arms. "But I _must_ go. If I don't then it will be Peter you will have to worry about instead of Edmund."

That made Jonah shift slightly uncomfortably and Lucy grinned, kissing his cheek lightly before she headed for the front of the stables. She couldn't help glancing back at him once as she did, and the handsome young man winked at her. Thinking herself the luckiest girl in the world, Lucy dashed past the horses, picking her skirts up and running as she heard the bells signaling the start of the meal. She took the stairs two at a time, then slowed as she passed by a foreign dignitary. She curtseyed politely to him as he bowed respectfully. Then as soon as he disappeared around the corner, Lucy once more took off.

When she was almost to the Great Hall a blonde man fell in step beside her, his long strides keeping up with her half run.

"Late again, Queen Lucy?" Logan asked, looking amused. She grinned at her brother's best friend.

"Supper is just early," she said with pretend haughtiness. "I shall have to speak with them about that in the future." Logan laughed easily, but he did take her by the arm and slow her steps. Wondering why, Lucy blushed scarlet when she realized that he was picking a piece of straw out of her hair.

"I have never been one to deny the pleasures of a hayloft, your Majesty, but perhaps in your case a bit more discretion is advisable?" Logan suggested lightly, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "The High King will skin that boy alive if he catches you two."

"How did you know?" Lucy gasped, finding another man stepping to her side and taking her hand.

"We know everything, sister dear," Edmund smirked as he led her towards the door. "And I am hungry from waiting for you, so pretend to be presentable, Lu."

"I'm presentable," Lucy insisted, but she was still blushing furiously. "Oh dear, does Peter know?"

"As long as the kid keeps his hands to himself as he has thus far, then no, Peter won't know," Edmund whispered in her ear as they entered the Great Hall, Logan casually ignoring his lowly status and following them to the head table.

"You're terrible, Ed," Lucy decided but she grinned that he was keeping her secret for her. "But I do love you." Edmund just bowed jokingly to her as he helped her sit down, ignoring the pointed looks being thrown their way from Peter and Susan.

"And I love when you lot are on time," Peter said drolly, raising his wine glass and taking the first traditional drink to signal the start of the meal. "Su's frightful when she's ravenous."

"Hey!" Susan stuck her tongue out at Peter so quickly that no one but Lucy saw it. However by the smirk on Logan's face he had seen Su's slip of decorum as well. He winked at Lucy as he sat down at the far end of the table next to a rather aggravated Tumnus (the Faun had tried so hard to organize the table by descending rank and the human just always knew how to mess things up…).

Despite their tardiness, Peter seemed in good sorts, although Lucy wondered if he would be the same if only she had shown up late with straw in her hair. He'd probably go hunt Jonah down, and for some reason the thought made her smile. She loved having a protective big brother when the man he was protecting her from was strong enough to take the abuse. Edmund was watching her out of the corner of his eye and he had a bit of a smirk on his face. She owed him and he knew it. The last time he had covered for her, she had ended up doing his laundry for a week. The confusion it had caused with the maids had been as much fun to him as making sure his tunics were especially grimy that week. Banquet dinners were festive affairs in Cair Paravel, but Lucy couldn't help but fidget and squirm in her excitement to get back to where she really wanted to be right now.

"How does that sound, Lu?" Lucy realized that Peter was speaking to her, and she jerked her head up, flushing prettily at being caught in daydreams.

"What was that?" she asked, flushing more when Edmund was openly laughing at her. Peter gave her a tolerant smile, sharing a look with Susan.

"I said, would you like to play cards tonight?" Peter repeated to his baby sister. "You have been asking since Edmund returned home but we all never seem to be able to arrange it properly. But I pushed around some things and we could this evening." He seemed so pleased that he had the night available to do as she had wanted, and Lucy didn't have the heart to say no. So they played cards, with Edmund and Logan trying to teach Susan and everyone having a bit more wine than was probably good for them. In the fun of watching Su regularly forget how the game was won, and forget even more often with every glass, Lucy nearly forgot that she had promised Jonah she would meet him. It was quite late before she finally kissed her family good night and slipped away to the stables.

There was a softly glowing light within, and Lucy's heart lurched when she realized that he must still be waiting for her. But as she slid the door to the side she heard not one but two voices speaking. Instinct told her to slow her steps and to listen before rushing into the back stalls where they were.

"You said she would be here," a raspy voice growled, muffled by the shifting of hooves in straw. "It's nearly midnight!"

"She promised; she always does as she says. It's disgustingly noble of her. She will come or she would have sent word that she would not." That was Jonah, but his tone wasn't the sweet one that she was used to. In fact he sounded downright nasty as he spoke of her.

"This isn't a good idea, boy. If the High King finds out…"

"He won't, not until it's too late."

At this point Lucy realized that something was dreadfully wrong, and that maybe she needed to be getting away very quickly. She turned to escape, but ran directly into a broad chest. Lucy gasped in fright as large arms grabbed her up and a hand clamped over her mouth. She fought as best she could, kicking and biting and managing to loosen the man's grip on her. There were cries of alarm from the stable as the young Queen stumbled towards the door, pulling her dagger from her belt, the one given her by Father Christmas. Lucy opened her mouth to scream and alert the night guards, but someone grabbed her from behind and a cloth was shoved over her face. It smelled sickeningly sweet and immediately everything started spinning. She desperately lashed out with her knife, but her arm was wrenched viciously, causing her to drop it.

"Oh, no you don't," she heard someone snarl in her ear, and despite her pain and fear Lucy's heart broke when she realized it was Jonah. Never in her whole life had she felt so stupid. Then blackness overtook her and the Queen felt nothing at all.

* * *

Lucy was gone.

The note had been found in the stables, pinned to the wall with her dagger through it. The poor Dwarf that had found it had tears in his thick red beard as he brought it to the High King's rooms, where Peter sat breaking his fast with Susan. The High King read it quickly and then crushed the note in his fist, instantly enraged as he ordered the castle locked down, and every room searched while Cats were sent to scour the countryside. But in his heart he already knew that it was too late. No one had seen Lucy since last night and too much time had passed. Immediately he sent for the person that he felt had the best chance helping his fix this.

The expression of King Edmund's face was grim as he unfolded the crumpled paper and set it on the table before his brother.

"The message said that you must go alone, Peter," Edmund said in a tight voice. "I know this place, and it's the worst possible for trying to ambush them. It's flush against the sea and there's no way to get a ship within any reasonable distance without it being spotted. There's not a single tree or rock out there within range to hide an archer behind. There are some woods but they are far off. They say if you come with anyone, they will take her head and leave it behind as your punishment for cowardice."

Peter knew that already. It was one of the reasons that the High King's hands were shaking, along with from gripping the table so hard. His teeth were clenched and his face drawn.

"Then I will go alone," he growled.

"It's a trap, you have to realize--," Edmund started to say.

"_**It is Lucy**_!" His words were cut off by Peter's roar and the crashing of the table as the furious High King overturned it, vases and papers flying. Susan flinched as glass shattered across the floor, but she said nothing. Peter wasn't even trying to control his anger, and they had never seen him so upset, not even when he had heard about Rabadash's treatment of Susan in Tashbaan. Peter's whole body was trembling.

"I have to go, even if it is a trap," Peter hissed.

"Then we will have archers on you."

"You will not! That is a goddamn _**order**_, Edmund! You will not!" Peter was pacing, running his hand through his hair, eyes wild. "I have to believe that they are serious in their threats, and I cannot… no, I _will_ not let her come to harm out of concern for my own hide. No archers, no nothing. I will ride out there alone and get her back."

"And when they take you too?" Edmund growled, not backing down. "What then? You're the bloody High King, Peter. You can't just go without protection. Send me in your stead. If something happens to me than it isn't as bad."

"_**Nothing happens to any of you!**_" Peter's roar was even louder this time, and the raw anger in it brought tears to Susan's eyes. Edmund bit his lip, fighting back his own frustrations. Finally he nodded curtly.

"What would you have me do, brother?" Ed asked quietly, once more the obedient soldier for his King. Peter sucked in a tight breath and with great effort brought himself under control.

"I do not know," Peter admitted harshly. "All I know is that I have to get her back."

"Then will you trust me that I will not put her life at risk more than it already is? Let me place men and Beasts in ways that can help catch them should they try to escape with you." Edmund paused and glanced at Susan hesitantly. She saw the glance, knowing that he wanted her to leave, but she lifted her chin and refused to budge. Edmund sighed and continued.

"As it is, if you insist on doing this, they can cut you down with a single crossbow bolt as you ride in. But my gut says that they want more than your head, or they would have attempted something more subtle. They will try to escape with you. Our ships are the fastest in the world, so if they try and take you, we will see which way they head and possible can run them down. If you still live, I intend to trap the rabbit in its own snare."

"Just get to Lu and get her to safety," Peter ordered, his eyes narrowing. "After that I will take care of myself. Aslan help them if they've touched one single hair on her head…." The High King shook his head in frustration. "I just want to know what she was doing in the stables that late in the first place."

Edmund's face grew even grimmer, and the self loathing in his eyes was evident.

"She was meeting with Jonah, that young guard. I had thought him harmless, he seemed so taken by her. It is my fault; I did not see his true intentions… Lucy would never see someone she cared about as potentially unsafe." Edmund's eyes narrowed dangerously. "When I get my hands on him, I'm going to run a sword through his gut and watch him die slowly."

"Not if I get to first," Peter growled, his hand straying to the sword on his hip. It wouldn't be the first time he done such to protect his family, although revenge killing wasn't in his nature. Still, should they hurt her...

"I still wish you would let me go instead," Edmund whispered. "This country needs you more than me. You might not ride out of this, brother."

Peter reached out and gripped his Ed's shoulder, squeezing hard enough to have brought a weaker man to his knees. "And this has already been decided. I won't risk her through deception, and she's more worth dying for than any other I've known. As for anything else, do as you wish, Edmund. I ride in one hour; I will not wait any longer."

The High King let go of him and strode out the door without a look back at any of them.

"Ed…" Susan whispered in a broken voice. The young King just shook his head.

"I can't fix it for you, Su," Edmund snapped. "Get your bow. The only one that has a chance at making a shot that bloody far is you."

Silently Susan rose and followed them out of the room, feeling time slip away with every breath she took.

True to his word, Peter waited exactly one hour before saddling up and heading off alone down the southern coast. Edmund had already left the castle, taking Su and two dozen archers with him. Whatever else he had planned he had kept to himself, probably to avoid being told not to. They were in different positions. Edmund had two siblings he had to try and save, but Peter was more fortunate. He only had one.

It was a beautiful bright day and the fact disgusted Peter more than he could say. Even a bit of cloud cover would be some tiny help, but instead the warm Narnian sun shone down on his face, heating his mount's skin and causing it to sweat as it cantered along the cliff side. Edmund had tried to get him to take a Horse, but he had refused even that. He loved his sister so very much, but to take any other conscious Creature with him was to invite the chance that someone else might die. He couldn't justify trading anyone's life for hers, no matter how much he loved her. She'd hate him if he did. However there was one life that he could give as he saw fit, without regret or remorse.

Peter wasn't even trying to think positively about his chances. He was just praying to get Lucy to safety and whatever happened after that would have to happen. The High King rode at a rolling lope, conserving his mount as much as his need for haste would allow. The animal had to be fresh enough to get at least Lu back quickly, both of them if fortune had it. He felt naked without Rhindon strapped to his hip, his only consolation being the tiny dagger he kept tucked in the side of his right boot. Anyone close enough to find that would find his heel in their face first.

It took him two hours to reach the beach, although from the height of the countryside, he had seen the ship waiting there for most of it. That was their biggest problem. If he could see their ship, they could see any Narnian ones. With fast enough rowers, they could be out of sight before Edmund could signal his men to follow. Whoever they were, they had planned this well. True to Edmund's word and the note's demands, there was not a Narnian in sight as the High King rode down to where several riders stood waiting for him. In their arms they held a young auburn haired woman in a royal gown, her pretty face mostly covered by her hair and streaked with tears. Peter's heart lurched as he approached, arms openhanded and outstretched to his sides to show he was unarmed. If they had hurt her…

Lucy lifted her head and she met his eyes. Peter's blood ran cold.

* * *

"What's going on?" Susan demanded, her voice a harsh whisper as she peered through foliage at the distant riders. Su had an arrow notched, but she knew that even she couldn't make a shot this far, not with any accuracy. The riders were far enough away that it was hard to read their expressions, let alone hear what was being said. To shoot was to risk hitting any of them, including Peter and Lucy. Behind Susan they had several Horses waiting and ready for a charge down to the beach, their intelligence keeping them from making animal noises that might have given away the Narnians' presence.

"Shuttup Su, I'm trying to figure it out." Edmund's face was scrunched up as he watched Peter dismount his horse and stand a few feet away from it. Lucy's hands seemed to be tied and she was partially bent over as she stumbled towards Peter's horse. The High King's gaze never wavered from the men in front of him.

"Something's off," Logan growled from his crouch next to Edmund. The King's hand was gripping his sword hilt so tightly his knuckles were white, his eyes locked on the scene and his mind working fast. Lucy scrambled up on the horse the best she could while having her hands tied. By this point Peter had willingly let himself be bound. Then Lucy spurred the horse into a run, away from Peter and back towards the castle. Logan let out a curse at the same time Edmund sprang to his feet.

"Shoot Su, shoot!" Edmund yelled as the High King was being drug towards the ship. "That wasn't Lucy!"

"What?" Susan cried, even as an arrow flew true, barely missing Peter and striking the leg of one of his captors. She had meant to hit his chest. Edmund didn't answer as he blew a piercing whistle. Three Cheetahs went flying past them, not towards the boat but across the open field. They were the fastest runners Edmund had, and he had set up a chain of them to where he had his swiftest ships lying in wait, just out of eyesight of the beach. The Cat relay would bring help the fastest.

Logan had already gained his Horse and along with another they rode past Edmund, the King swinging up as they did. Susan's arrows arched over their heads until they and the others that followed were too close to her targets for her to safely do so. Edmund was cursing viciously, knowing that it was already too late even as they swept down the beach, swords drawn. Peter had already been drug below decks and the ship was rowing quickly out to sea. There was nothing they could do but watch as the unmarked vessel swept past the higher cliffs off to their side before turning to the Northeast and carrying the High King out to sea.

"Damn it!" Edmund growled, dismounting and pacing angrily.

"Lucy would never have left him," Logan stated, more to himself than to Edmund, listening to his friend spit out every obscenity he had learned in two worlds. Not even Logan knew what some of them meant. By the time Queen Susan had been carried down to the shore by one of the Centaurs, Edmund had settled on just calling Peter an idiot in every form he could.

"Ed, stop it," Susan snapped as she approached. "It won't get Peter back. How did you know it wasn't Lucy?"

"Because Lu's too bloody smart to head back to the castle," Edmund growled back. "She'd know we'd be off in the trees. And she wouldn't have left anyway, because she's too bloody brave to leave Peter, no matter what he said. Why the hell would Peter have just gone with them? He would have to have known…"

"How long will it take those ships to get here?" Logan wanted to know. Edmund just groaned, his eyes never leaving the ship that was stealing his brother away.

"Too long. And all we can do is wait and hope that Peter knows what he's doing."

Susan reached for Edmund's hand and squeezed it, her soft words to him reassuring despite her own fears. "When it comes to Lu, he always does."

* * *

The High King had no idea what he thought he was doing.

_This was ridiculous_. The thought kept repeating over and over again in his head. Peter had been treading water for nearly an hour now, shivering with cold, knowing full well that his brother and his men were only a few feet above their heads. They were still at the same place, but instead of taking off with the ship, they had cut his binds and slipped overboard, out of sight on the other side. The vessel had tilted towards the rockier cliffs just past the beach, towing them through the water and leaving him and two others to swim for the cover of the partially submerged caves. For the whole time he had been in this watery hiding hole, Peter had kept his mouth shut of his own accord. The crossbow that stayed pointed at his head wasn't the reason why. It was the assurance that he was going to die anyway, here or elsewhere, but that Lucy was still alive and might stay that way with his cooperation.

The ridiculous part was that it would be so easy to yell out and get help, especially when he caught glimpses of his own fleet's hulls cutting through the water. There were things he had learned during his time as High King, not all of them pleasant. One such thing was that any man, given enough of the right kind of encouragement, would talk. Most of them would sell out their own grandmothers if in enough pain, but it could take time. Peter had no doubt that he could break these two men, but he just didn't know if he could do it fast enough to still save his sister.

The younger of the two was familiar, for he had been the one keeping company with Lucy the last few weeks. Peter had already decided long ago that he would die the slowest. Jonah seemed to sense his malice, and his thoughts of warning his countrymen, but instead of being nervous the young man just grinned.

"Yell if you want to, High King," Jonah whispered, one hand holding himself to the rocky cave wall and the other holding the bow pointed at Peter. "But if we do not get to our arranged meeting place by the appointed time, then her guard is ordered to kill her. She is nothing, you are the one we were sent to get."

"They will catch your ship," Peter growled, but he too kept his voice soft. "They will figure it out."

"By then we will be too far away to find." Jonah smirked and dropped his voice pointedly. "That is if you do not send Lu to her death first."

Peter burned to wipe that look of familiarity off his face, hating that the young man dared deceive his sister in such a way, that he dare _use_ her in such a way. Instead he clamped his mouth shut and spent his time thinking about every way he would kill these two when his time had come. Because it would.

No one was looking for them here and so just as quickly as the Narnian ships arrived, they departed. Still his captors were cautious, waiting until they were sure no one was around to slip out of the water and make a dash for the cover of the woods. As soon as they did, the older man turned and punched Peter straight in the face, catching him unawares and driving him to the ground. Jonah kicked him hard in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. As he lay stunned, the two went through his person, making sure that he was unarmed. They found nothing, but they did tie his hands behind his head and wrenched him up to his feet, dragging him along behind them.

"Where is Lucy?" Peter demanded once he was able to gasp in air. "Where have you hidden her?"

"The Queen rests comfortably awaiting us," Jonah said, giving Peter a particularly vicious shove forwards. "That is all you need know."

"Why do you do this?" he pressed. "Who is that you work for?" Any information he could get would only help. Unfortunately Jonah's companion seemed to understand this. He grabbed the High King by the neck and threw him into one of the trees headfirst. Blood poured from Peter's nose and the world spun as he fought to stay conscious, rolling to get his knees beneath him. The older man knelt down in front of him and forced his chin upwards, pressing a knife blade to Peter's neck.

"For every time you open your mouth, your Majesty, I shall cut a piece from you." His voice was raspy and his eyes gleamed dangerously as he spoke. "And then I shall cut three from her. Make sure they are worthy questions."

Peter met the other's gaze furiously, but there was nothing he could do.

"Hurry, man, this isn't a fucking pleasure trip," Jonah snapped, walking past and hauling Peter up to his feet once more. The other just spat and followed, looking as if disappointed to be putting his knife away. The High King decided to keep his shut, but he did watch them closely, memorizing everything he could about them. Raspy Voice was left handed and had a slight limp. That could be a benefit. Jonah swaggered like one overconfident with himself. He would be fast with a blade, he remembered Lu commenting on it once. If only he had just paid more attention when she had spoken…

It hadn't been more than a few kilometers through the woods when the sea came back into view. And sitting in a tiny hidden bay, tucked away from any passing vessels' view, was the smallest ship one could have and still call it a ship. There was a single man on deck and he drew his sword upon hearing them rustling the foliage. He was obviously a Calormene and he relaxed visibly when he saw who it was that approached.

"About time," the Calormene growled as they waded into the water, half dragging Peter when it was so deep that he would have drowned from being tied. "She woke up a bit ago and threw a fit. I had to give her some more to shut her up."

Peter spat water from his mouth and nose when they dropped him on the deck, feeling half drowned as it was, but he still managed to growl at them. "What have you done to my sister?" he demanded, then hissed as Raspy Voice drew his knife across Peter's face, slashing his cheek. Blood welled instantly, mixing with water to paint him red from cheekbone to jaw.

"We have kept the bitch quiet. One for you and now three for her," Raspy grinned, ignoring Peter's roar of rage. The High King tried to throw himself into the man, but only managed to get himself knocked back down again. Jonah stepped on his neck, his heel digging into Peter's bound wrists.

"Don't worry, we'll wait until she's conscious before we start cutting her up. Really, I thought that a High King would be smarter than this." With every word the young man ground his foot down harder. Peter felt the bones in his hands giving painfully, but if Jonah had thought to get Peter to cry out, he was going to have to do better than that. "No more questions, your Majesty. Get him below deck, we need to get out of here."

The Calormene was the one to grab up Peter, who by this point was feeling much like a sack of grain that had been overly handled. His bound arms screamed in pain from being used as grips so often. The Calormene was nicer than the other two, although being drug down steps and locked into a dark and sour smelling place is never fun. The ship was so small that there was only one room down here, with a single cot faintly visible in the corner. There was a shape on it. For the first time since being taken prisoner Peter let out a soft cry, stumbling over to where Lucy lay curled up and dropping to his knees beside her.

"Lu? Lucy, can you hear me?"

She didn't even move, and Peter's heart sank. Unable to find anything to cut his binds free on, Peter awkwardly kicked off his boot, grimacing at the clatter when his knife fell out. He had to lie down on top of it to reach it with his hands, tears stinging his eyes as he tried to use his battered hands to cut the rope. After several tries he managed it, gasping in relief as he could once more drop his arms downwards. Muscles that had not appreciated their confinement made their issues known, and for a brief moment Peter had to fight to keep from growing sick from the pain. But then it passed and he once more dropped to his sister's side.

"Lu, you need to wake up," he whispered, giving her a gentle shake. But she wasn't just asleep from tiredness, and even in the darkness down here Peter could see that she was deathly pale. Her breathing was shallow, so much so that he had for a moment feared that she had stopped.

"What did they do to you, sweetie?" Peter whispered, feeling the rocking of the ship change as it pushed out to sea. Any chance of fighting his way free and swimming them to shore was quickly fading. For the first time in a very long while, the High King felt the bitterness of being completely helpless. So he did the only thing he could do, the thing he had been doing since as far back as he could remember. Peter took hold of Lucy in one hand and the knife in the other, and he put himself between her and the world.

And in the darkness he waited.

* * *

--

* * *

In the darkness of his bedchambers, Peter waited for Lucy to fall asleep. But even though her breathing had slowed and her eyes were closed, he could still tell that she was awake. He could almost hear her thinking from where he was.

"Lucy, what is it?" he asked her finally, his voice a soft whisper in case he was incorrect.

"You always know when something's wrong," his baby sister whispered back, a tiny smile touching her lips.

"Not always," Peter admitted ruefully. "I know I haven't been paying as much attention to you as I should have."

"You've had our new brother to worry about," Lucy replied simply. "He's never had a family and so he takes a lot of brothering."

"I wasn't aware brothering was a word," Peter chuckled, shifting on the bed to ease the discomfort of his injured arm.

"Hmmm… it's right next to gastrovascular."

"I hadn't realized that he is a brother," Peter whispered. "Have you decided that?"

"No. You did. Hadn't you realized?" At her words, Peter smiled and took Lucy's tiny hand. Perhaps it was true, he was treating Caspian much the same as he treated his siblings.

"You are very small for one so wise," he told her, only half teasing. She reached out and touched his shoulder, close to where it was injured but gently enough not to hurt him.

"No, I just try to do the best I can," she whispered, and the way she said it made it sound as if she was unsure if it was. "I can't be that wise, you always have to save me. And sometimes I hate being small, you feel so helpless when things go wrong."

"That goes for us big people, too. And don't forget who's always saving us when it matters, little sister," Peter said, leaning over and kissing her on the top of the head. "Stop thinking, Lu. You need to get some sleep. That's an order from the High King."

Lucy smiled at his joke, but she kept a tight hold on his hand as she once more fell silent. She hadn't actually answered his question but she didn't have to. And he hadn't actually reassured her, but she still felt better. So it wasn't long before the tiniest Queen finally felt the weight of the day take her into slumber. Peter waited until then to lean over and whisper a promise into her ear.

"Small or big, I will always save you, Lu," Peter swore, his heart in every word. And in the blurry haze between dreams and dreaming, the little girl smiled.

She knew.

* * *

--

* * *

Lucy knew he was in pain, but Peter was trying very hard not to show it.

The High King had nearly wept when she had finally woken up, and she hadn't understood why. Lucy had no idea that the drug they had given her to knock her out had been administered too heavily, and had nearly killed her. She also had no idea that as it left her system, it had caused a series of small seizures that had left Peter frantic with everyone. He was considering the moment she'd woken as being one of the best of his life. Now that he was assured of her health, Peter had gone into survival mode, checking every single thing in the room for use to help them escape. He was currently prying gently at the locked door, their only way in or out.

"Peter…" Lucy finally broke the silence that he had insisted they keep. He had been trying to listen for any words their captors might say for clues to where they were headed.

"Shush, Lu," Peter whispered, using the knife to try and loosen the wood around the hinges. Maybe if they were weakened they could break out of here? Lucy shifted uncomfortably on her cot and tried to ignore her headache and other things. Finally she couldn't keep quiet anymore.

"Peter?"

"What is it?" The look he gave her told her he was incredulous she was insisting on speaking. Lucy flushed in embarrassment, ducking her head.

"I have to use the loo… but there isn't one." It was the most humiliated that she had ever been, but Peter only gave her a sympathetic smile.

"It's alright, I do too," he told her, her look of stark relief making the lie worth it. "How about I pretend not to notice you if you pretend not to notice me?"

"Okay," Lucy nodded emphatically and went to the corner furthest from him. Peter sighed and stopped what he was doing, turning his back to his sister and attempting to pee when he heard her do the same. Actually he could care less about this kind of thing, they were prisoners and that never had conveniences. He just cared about getting them home safely, but if it made her feel better…

"Eww," Lucy muttered now that it smelled even more sour in their little prison.

"Would've happened sometime, Lu," Peter said matter-of-factly as he went back to his task.

"I suppose… they never talk about this kind of thing in the stories."

"You read too much romance as it is, sister," Peter told her drolly, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Remind me to give you a book on strategy when we get home."

"Where do you think they are taking us?" she whispered back, once more sitting on the cot. Peter just shrugged, but he had his ideas. He wasn't the most popular monarch in Calormen right now. But telling Lu that would only scare her, so he kept his own counsel. Lucy tucked her knees to her chest and hugged them.

"This is all my fault," she said sadly. "I should have known better."

"Was it Su's fault that Rabadash tried to invade Archenland?" Peter countered, but instead of making her feel better, he only got a very long pause.

"Yes, I think in a way it was," Lucy decided softly. "She trusted him and she shouldn't have. I trusted Jonah and I shouldn't have. And look what's happened. Now you are in danger as well, because I am a silly girl."

Peter was about to answer her, but then regretted the conversation at all because the door was swinging open. The High King took his chance, figuring that they wouldn't expect him to be waiting there. Grabbing either side of the doorframe, he kicked both his feet up and out, knocking the figure back. Peter disappeared from sight and Lucy jumped up, rushing to help him. However they must have overpowered him because before she reached the stairs, he was thrown back down, his heavier body knocking into her and taking them both to the ground. Peter rolled sideways and groaned as he fought to stand.

"Stay away from him!" Lucy had gained her feet faster and had put herself in between Peter and the descending men. Raspy Voice smirked at her, flipping his knife idly as he and Jonah descended the stairs.

"The little birdies are singing," Raspy said, then he wrinkled his nose. "Amongst other things."

"Ignore her for now, we want the King," Jonah commanded, but Lucy wasn't about to be ignored. She threw herself at the men, punching and kicking the way Edmund had taught her. Lucy managed to clock Jonah a good one before Raspy ripped her backwards and threw her into the curved hull. She slumped, fighting to keep conscious after striking her head against the wood.

"Lucy!" Peter's roar mingled with the buzzing in her ears, and it was followed by the sounds of fighting. Then someone had her by the shoulder and was pulling her up the stairs. The winds were high and the Calormene was in the middle of fastening the rigging, his hands full when the enraged King burst on deck. Peter bowled into him, ducking the swinging boom before it took off his head. The Calormene and the High King crashed into the side of the rail, grappling for position. Fortunately Peter was at his best when in a rumble, and he managed to flip the other man up and overboard. Unfortunately the time it took to do so was the time it took to bring Jonah and Raspy up to the deck. Peter must have managed to wound Raspy because he was bleeding heavily from a deep gash across his chest, and he looked furious.

"She's going to pay for that," Raspy snarled. He and Jonah had both drawn their swords and were trying to flank him, but Peter shoved Lucy behind him and backed her into the bow. Holding his dagger easily despite the pain in his hands, Peter held himself at the ready.

"How far is shore?" Peter asked Lucy through gritted teeth. "Can you swim that far?"

"I… I don't know," Lucy felt his shoulders press against her chest as they reached the rail. There was nowhere left to go, and shore was only distantly visible. "I think so."

"Then jump, Lu, swim for it," Peter growled, but she could see how much he was bleeding, old wounds reopening and new ones earned below.

"You won't make it, Peter," she cried, being smart enough to know it was true. The shore was so far… even she didn't know if she could make it and she wasn't injured. "I can't!"

"Go, Lucy!" her brother yelled as both Jonah and Raspy lurched forward, blades flashing.

"NO!!" Lucy screamed, although in fear for him or defiance of him Peter never knew. All he knew was that a dagger was not good enough right now, and that when the blade pierced through him, it hurt like hell.

Then he knew nothing else.

* * *

Lucy was crying.

She knew it wasn't very brave of her, but she felt very helpless at the moment. All she wanted to do was to fix this mess that she had caused. But instead she was tied to the mast, her hands bound to her brothers, and she knew that he was dying. He was bleeding too much, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She couldn't even see him, catching only glimpses when she craned her head, and Lucy decided that was even worse. She didn't know what to do. So she cried.

"It's okay, Lu. Shhh, it's okay." The weakness in his voice made her cry even harder, not for herself but for him. "It'll all be okay, sweetie."

"Well, do you know how to sail a fucking ship in the dark!" Jonah was roaring at Raspy, who looked the worse for the wear after the fight earlier. It wasn't just dark, it was pitch black, the only lights from the couple lit lanterns aboard. Heavy fog blocked all but a few stars from view. Jonah sounded panicked, and Lucy knew that he was at his most dangerous. "The only one who knew these waters that well is swimming in them right now!"

"Doubt he's still swimming…" Raspy grunted sourly. "I'd say we should just kill the both of them and be done with it. Do you want to be caught in open waters with the two of them?"

"They know my face," Jonah snarled, pausing to give Peter a vicious kick to his injured side. Lucy screamed at him but he ignored her. "They know my fucking face! And my life's not worth a damn if I don't deliver. Do you know how much money he is worth? We should wait and sail tomorrow."

"We'll be caught by then, they'll have realized the decoy by now," Raspy stood his ground. "I'm not dying because you're a fool."

"Then perhaps you've outlived your usefulness to me," Jonah snapped and before Raspy had a chance to do anything the younger man stepped forward and ran him through. At the sound of the awful man dying, Lucy locked eyes with her false suitor.

"Jonah…" Her voice shook and she forced it to steady. "Jonah please, you can do whatever you want to me, but Peter needs help. Just get him to shore and I'll vouch for you, I'll protect you--"

Lucy's words were cut off by a little yelp as Jonah stormed over and crouched in front of her. He grabbed her chin, forcing her face upwards as he looked down at her with maddened eyes.

"You'll vouch for me? Protect me? You are useless, you little twit! You are nothing!" She cried out as he slapped her smartly across the face and from the other side of the mast Peter let out a soft string of curses. Jonah started to laugh, sinking down to lie against Lucy, resting his head on her lap as suitors often did to their lady loves.

"Please…" she whispered, trying to get through to him, but the man she had thought she had known wasn't there. Off in the darkness a gull gave a warbling cry.

"You want to know what I can't get over, Lucy? I can't get over how completely fucking _naïve_ you are. Do you have any idea of _easy_ it was to get to you? I don't know why anyone didn't try sooner. Hell, I bet in another few days I'd have had those skirts up, Queen or not. In fact, if I'm completely screwed here, I might as well see what that would have been like…"

Lucy glared furiously at him and kicked at him ineffectually when he began to shove her skirts over her knees, but it was the quiet voice of her brother that halted Jonah.

"I can sail this ship for you. I know the stars and I know how. But you have to let her go," Peter whispered in a sick sounding voice. Jonah laughed harshly but he stood and walked around the mast to stare at Peter.

"You lie," Jonah said, but Peter just looked at him. Jonah shook his head in disbelief. "She'll die. In all this fog there's no way she'll make shore, even if she can find it. She'll drown."

"And when we get where we're going it'll be too hard for you to control two prisoners," Peter countered, shifting weakly. "It's either she gets raped and killed by you then, or she swims now and maybe drowns. It's a better way to go than the other."

"You would sacrifice her like that…" Jonah seemed unwilling to believe it. But he bent and cut her binds to Peter, freeing them both but content in knowing the King too weak to take him down. "But what the hell. Okay. Swim Queen Lucy, and remember what your stupidity brought you as you die."

Jonah grabbed Lucy up by the arm, ignoring her fighting as he dragging her to the side of the ship. He paused, and Lucy locked eyes with Peter, tears streaking her face.

"I don't want to leave you," she whispered brokenly. "Please…"

"It's okay, Lu," Peter sighed, and she could swear that he almost looked at peace. "Just trust me. Swim, as hard as you can."

"Peter… I'm sorry--" her words were cut off by Jonah jerking her sideways and throwing her overboard. Lucy yelped and hit the water with a splash. There was the brief sound of swimming and then nothing. Jonah grinned at Peter as the gull once more gave its eerie cry.

"I've been dying to do that since I met her." Jonah smirked and stepped forward, jerking Peter upwards and aimed the point of his sword towards the High King's chest. "I never did like those sweet innocent types, too cloying. It's disgusting."

Peter was grinning viciously at Jonah, now that Lucy was no longer on the deck and within arm's reach of their captor.

"You want to know what I can't get over, Jonah?" the High King said, weaving from blood loss. But his eyes were filled with triumph. "_How fucking naïve you are_."

Cold steel touched Jonah's neck, but not from any blade Peter held. At the same moment the darkness lit up as if the sun had rose early. Light after light filled the sea, surrounding the tiny ship on all sides. The Narnian fleet had come for their King. Jonah jerked in fear but it was already too late. The man standing behind Jonah was dripping wet, and he grabbed Jonah by the hair and threw him across the deck. Jonah tried to rise and fight back but Edmund kicked the sword out of his hand and planted his boot in Jonah's face, shoving him backwards. Before Edmund could deliver a final blow, Peter stopped him.

"No," the High King ordered, leaning back against the mast and shaking. "Do not kill him. Not yet at least."

Edmund looked as if he would be okay suffering his brother's wrath just this once, but having glanced back, he saw the condition Peter was in. Cursing, he abandoned his revenge and strode over to take his brother, holding him up. The High King was nearly white, but the desk was red and slick with his blood.

"Drink this, Pete," Edmund said gently, holding up Lu's cordial and dripping a drop into his brother's mouth. (Edmund had learned a long time ago that keeping it around was more handy than not.) Immediately color came back to Peter's cheeks as his wounds knitted, but the High King continued to lean heavily on Ed's arm.

"What took you so long?" Peter quipped wearily, and Edmund rolled his eyes.

"Well, maybe if you let me in on the switch next time, I could find you faster."

"I didn't fight back when they took me aboard," Peter smiled weakly, watching as more men filled the ship, their own clothes soaked. "What more did you need?"

"Ha ha." Edmund said flatly. "I'm chalking this up to blood loss."

"Lu?"

"She's fine. A little drenched and frantic for you but fine. She grabbed a sword from one of my men and was planning on swimming back to get you." Both brothers smiled at the thought, although Peter immediately winced when they walked too fast. Perhaps one more drop… A scruffy blonde man had taken a hold of Jonah's tunic before he could jump overboard and was now merrily dragging him about, regularly running him into things.

"Oh, we are going to have _so_ much fun with you," Logan said with a jovially grin as he stepped back and punched Jonah square in the face, shattering his nose and laying him out cold.

"Logan…" Edmund sighed. "Save some for the rest of us, she's _our_ sister you know." His friend just chuckled and threw their newest and most favorite prisoner over his shoulder to carry back to the _Splendor_ _Hyaline_,where Lucy was waiting. Sighing because once more his sister was safe and everything was right in the world, Peter leaned more of his weight against Edmund strong frame.

"Come on, Ed. Let's go home."

* * *

They must have given him something very strong in his wine on the _Hyaline_, because by the time Peter woke up, he was already back in his bed in Cair Paravel. Blinking groggily he sat up, realizing that he was not alone in his room. There were two others, Susan at his bedside and Lucy curled up in the corner chair.

"You gave us quite a scare," Susan told him quietly, having noticed his waking. She set her book down on her lap. "The whole castle was in an uproar."

"But Edmund figured everything out," Peter said, wincing at the disapproving look she gave him.

"You're lucky, Peter. You know it. You were right there the whole time, and you could have just called out to us." Susan followed his gaze, for he was watching Lucy sleep, making sure beyond a doubt that she was okay. "You really could have died."

"She's worth it," was all Peter would say as he sank back down into his bedding. Susan took his hand, her silent way of saying how scared she had been. "It's alright, Su. I had it sorted."

"You always do, brother," she gave him a weak smile. Then the smile dropped and Susan glanced back at Lucy.

"Is she alright?" Peter asked softly, knowing Su would understand how he meant. Susan sighed sadly.

"She's… She just doesn't know how to _not_ trust people, Peter. And she thinks it's all her fault. She loves you so, and the fact she caused you so much hurt is worse to her than anything." Susan bit her lip worriedly. "She has sworn to never take another suitor. Lu says she won't risk being used against you again."

"She'll change her mind," Peter tried to reassure Susan, but his oldest sister shook her head.

"You didn't see her when she got back. She was… different. This will stay with her."

"Peter?" Lucy had awoken, and she uncurled from her chair, practically lunging into his arms. "Are you alright? Oh, I am so very sorry…"

Her tears were wet on his shoulder and Peter wrapped his arms around her comfortingly.

"It's okay Lu, it's all going to be okay." He let her cry herself out, and Susan left to give them some time, although not before sharing a look with Peter. Susan knew the dangers of falling in love, and she protected herself from it. Unfortunately Lucy had learned the hard way. So Peter did the thing that he knew how best to do, he curled her in tight to him and held her protectively, the barrier between his baby sister and the world. After she had cried herself back to sleep, the High King smoothed his hand over her hair gently and said the only thing he could say after such a day.

"I love you, Lu."

* * *

--

* * *

"I love you, Lu," Peter whispered, dropping a kiss to Lucy's brow. Then he took a deep breath and left his sister sleeping in his room. He steeled himself for whatever might be coming as he walked quickly to the throne room, where Ironhoof had directed him. He didn't even have to strain to hear the shouting from the hall. Caspian was in a rage again, and he could hear Susan yelling at him and General Tenneth.

"Oh, stop it!" Susan was crying, and Caspian had steel against his general's neck.

"What is happening here?" Peter demanded, striding into the room. Immediately Susan turned and threw herself into his arms, sobbing. Peter listened as she cried out her frustrations, watching the flicker of emotions pass over Caspian's face. He could tell the young king was rapidly cooling upon seeing Susan's distress, but at the moment Peter thought that the other man had done enough for one night.

"I'll make it right, Sus," Peter promised, thinking that he had said the same thing so many times, and would say it as many times as he had to. No matter what. Usually it was to Lucy, but this time it was Su who had let down her guard and found herself swept up in events out of her control. It had been bound to happen, and Caspian was a good enough bloke. But damn it, didn't he understand? This wasn't what they needed… and if this was all Caspian was capable of, then Peter was going to have to make some very harsh decisions _for_ the Telmarine King.

"Go get Lucy from my rooms and keep her with you tonight," Peter said, giving Susan something else to focus on. "She shouldn't be alone. I will have this sorted, I promise, " he whispered in Susan's ear, squeezing her hand and giving her the strength to compose herself. Susan sniffed and wiped her eyes but she nodded bravely and gave him a tremulous smile. Sometimes he forgot… Susan was his little sister, too. The General was watching them both warily, and Peter decided he did not like the look on the other man's face. But he would deal with Tenneth later. Caspian had precedence and he needed the High King's attention first, although Peter doubted that Caspian would like what he had to say. Peter waited until Susan had swept from the room, the General in tow, before locking eyes with Caspian. The Telmarine King looked as if he had had a long day. Caspian had _no_ idea.

His new brother.

It was time Caspian learned this part too.


	14. Chapter 13

**The Lost Chronicles of Narnia: The Beast of Witherby**

Chapter Thirteen

Drip. Drip. _Drip_.

The ice was melting, as it had been for more than a millennia. Here in this dark forgotten place winter still lurked, its crystal claws refusing to relinquish their hold, allowing only those tiny droplets to escape. Here in this place, where neither King nor Queen had dared to tread, winter was as it had always been: cold, dark, implacable. Here winter still quivered with hate, as living and breathing as any creature could be.

It was here in the blackness of these caverns that Malok had first experienced true ecstasy.

He did not come here often, having found that to do so challenged even his unique ability to always understand his surroundings. Ahh, for winter was so full of deceptions and his mistress far greater than he in its manipulations. She seemed to always know what he was thinking, when he was straying from doing her bidding, and he wasn't without his own agenda. For the meantime, their separate desires meshed beautifully, and for the meantime he was the most obedient servant, seeking only to do as she wanted. And when she was pleased… well, then she had such wonderful ways of showing her pleasure. Quivering with anticipation, the white haired warlock knelt before the base of a frozen waterfall, pressing shapely lips to ice smoothed from this ritual.

**You have left him alone.**

That was _not_ pleasure. Malok grimaced as the harsh voice intruded upon his thoughts, before he had even rocked back to his heels. He concentrated to diminish the presence her voice had in his mind. It would benefit no one, least of all himself if he went insane.

"I have left him in good hands," was his smooth reply.

**If the demon kills him, you are of no more use to me.**

Malok smiled at the threat, and he ran one slender finger down the ice, like a lover's touch. "Your lack of faith wounds me." There was silence, and he dug his fingernail into the fall, scraping lightly.

"Have I failed you so far?" he inquired in a silken voice, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over the scratch. "Have I _disappointed_ in any way?"

**You would never disappoint yourself. Your own skin is too valuable to you. Why have you come here?**

Malok chuckled deep in his throat, and he licked his lips. She already knew, she just wanted to hear him beg.

"The boy is strong," the slender man admitted. "And requires much effort on my part to contain him. I would appreciate some assistance."

**What can a voice do?**

Malok rose on his knees and crawled forward, pressing another kiss to the ice, his tongue tracing the scratch his nail had left.

**What can you not?** he replied silently, opening his mind up to hers. The darkness about him writhed in unexpected pleasure, for as much as she enjoyed breaking through a mind and grinding it down until it was nothing, the rarity of welcome surrender was equally delicious. For a moment he allowed her full access to him, to the sensations that only the truly living can experience. The taste of the wine as it rolled over his tongue, the warmth of his belly full after he fed, the physical and mental satiation given under duress by creatures of all kinds. She focused on this last part greedily, for pain and pleasure were equally arousing to her, and Malok almost lost himself within her hunger to become real once more, to feel these things herself. Then with a gathering of all he had left that was still him, the Warlock forced her out, closing off his mind.

Winter screamed in fury and a droplet of water froze midair, shattering into a thousand pieces. Malok licked his lips.

"My turn," he said, panting as he braced himself against the falls, rubbing his cheek against the ice. "Give me that which I desire, to help us both succeed."

For a moment there was nothing, and for the first time the beautiful face grew twisted and ugly.

"I need this!" the Warlock snarled as he fought to regain his breath. "You must!"

_**I must do nothing.**_

"I will lose my hold on him, which serves no one," perfect eyebrows narrowed furiously but Malok forced his voice more level at the threat in her words. She could crush his sanity if she wished… she had been in his mind now and she knew all his weak points.

**Then you are of no use to me.**

"I have not lost him yet. Please… with your help I can bring him here to you." Malok's words were choked out because he knew in that instance his usefulness to her would be at an end. But… but maybe given time he could work his way around it. His own powers could only keep the boy king contained in the Town, and not for long it seemed. Malok _needed_ this. He Warlock licked the scratch on the ice, tentatively, in askance. At her silence his tongue flickered out again and he felt her amusement at his groveling.

"Please…"

**Very well. But you must bring us the boy immediately.**

Malok trembled, a shiver of excitement running through his body at her agreeing. Then the air around him grew heavy, oh so heavy, pulling and clawing at him. His mind was ripped open as she… shared. The Warlock fell forward, forehead pressed against the falls and wide eyes as black as this place, a creature of the dark. He was unaware of the screams his body made as the Magic slowly destroyed him, replaced his essence with itself.

Three meters above his head the Beast watched, unimpressed, and waited for something more worthy to feed on.

* * *

"Did you find your friend yet?"

Trumpkin didn't reply to the slightly mocking words. From the other side of the bar, the Black Dwarf smirked. It had become his way of greeting the Red Dwarf, a jest that cut deeper than the Townsman realized. No, Trumpkin had not found his friend, not even after weeks of trying. The days and nights had blended together into an endless darkness that settled on his shoulders, an inexorable weight pressing him down. His heart was hardening, his hope was dying a little more each passing hour. He had been left here…

Edmund was gone.

Whether by choice or by foul play, the King of Narnia was nowhere to be found. They had been abandoned by the King of Old once more, and the Dwarf felt the cut of betrayal just as deeply as if thirteen hundred years had not passed. Still, Trumpkin was loyal to a fault, once his loyalty was given, and he found himself making up reason after reason to explain what might have happened. No Human boy, King of Narnia or not, could have survived the Town alone. Maybe for a few hours, definitely not a day, and never for this long. That must have been what happened, because his King would never have _chosen_ to leave him there. Not Edmund. Not him. The justifications for the king's absences rang hollow in the Dwarf's ears. But until he had physical tangible proof that Edmund was truly gone, Trumpkin would not stop searching. He would not give up on his King.

"I said, did you find your friend yet?" the barkeep asked, eyes twinkling with a dark humor, watching the Red Dwarf drain his glass.

"If I had, do you think I would be still be in this shit hole talkin' to the likes of you?" Trumpkin snapped back, unable to contain his anger. The barkeep just chuckled and poured him another tankard of lager. The grime on the vessel didn't bother him anymore, the bitter aftertaste fitting. He could feel despair fill his mouth, sliding over his tongue. It shouldn't taste sweet.

His money was almost gone. It would have been gone completely weeks ago, but the occasional lucky hand at cards kept dry bread in his mouth and harsh drink burning through his gut. But as the nights passed, the Dwarf found that less of the former and more of the latter was necessary to keep him sane. He hated this place and everything it represented. Its evil was like a black tar, covering everyone and everything, dripping fingertips and oozing through pores. It tainted them all, even Trumpkin, and he hated Edmund a little more each day for bringing him here. His hatred ran deeper each hour as he was unable to escape the truth: his beloved King had left him. And there was nothing Trumpkin could do about it.

"Why don't you just leave?" the barkeep suggested, replacing the empty tankard with yet another. "Cut your losses and go home. Your friend obviously did."

Trumpkin stared at the drink clutched between his fists, watching the liquid lap against pewter walls, and he wondered why it looked like his hands were shaking.

"I ain't leaving without him," Trumpkin muttered, but the words sounded weak in his own ears. The barkeep chuckled, and he leaned over the counter and smirked.

"Then get comfortable, cause you aren't going anywhere anytime soon, friend."

"I'm not your friend," Trumpkin snapped, one hand gripping the bar for balance, one hand gripping his drink, now empty. When had that happened?

"Looks like you aren't anyone's friend." There was nothing Trumpkin could really say to that. He had killed the last person he had considered a true friend. It was hard to remember why, just that at the time it had seemed like a good idea. Here and now, good ideas were growing harder and harder to find.

The cobblestone was cold where his forehead pressed against it. He was outside, although he couldn't really remember how that happened either. Trumpkin knew that staying face down in the streets of the Town was to ask to be killed, so he stumbled to his feet and around the corner, only to find himself noisily sick against the alley wall. No one noticed. No one cared. Not even his countrywoman, who was being drunkenly mishandled by her latest client a few meters away where the ever present shadows grew darker. From the dead look in her eyes, she cared for naught anymore. Trumpkin felt a surge of angry jealousy, wanting to remember what not caring felt like. He had been like that once. These damn Humans had ruined him! As the noises of the pairs' coupling mixed with the endless raucous screams and laughter and crying of the Town, poisoning his heart and destroying his faith, Trumpkin curled up in a ball with his head between his knees and he realized something: he was in Hell. Edmund had left him in Hell and there was nothing he could do about it.

Trumpkin hated the King.

* * *

The huge grey Wolf was growing restless.

It would never show to any but those of his own kind, but the feeling had started and would not seem to go away. Yet the Narnian had not moved for what seemed like an eternity. While hunger and thirst had driven him from his vigil in the rocky cliffs above the Town, once sated he had returned immediately. And here he remained, yellow eyes glowing in the darkness as he looked down upon the place he had led them all. In a very Wolfish manner, he decided that if those who followed him could not use their noses well enough to keep themselves out of trouble, then they were not worth his time. But in the same manner, he grew restless knowing that those he travelled with were not close by, and as a pack Animal it didn't set well with him.

The Town. If at all possible, the shadows about the place were growing deeper, darker, as if filled with a thicker power. Magic. His knowledge was ingrained in his very marrow, passed down from generations of those wary now of the influence of such things. Never again would a Wolf be caught unawares. Never would a Wolf become a slave for another. And yet, even long after instinct screamed he should have gone, he remained, something hardening in his belly that he had never known before and could not never occurred to Maugrim that it was concern. It never occurred to him that that concern should have been enough to drive him into the Town to aid his companions.

To the Wolf, there was nothing he could do but wait and see if they lived through this or not.

* * *

Reepicheep had never been treated like an animal.

Narnian Mice were so large, and their appearance so distinct, that even the blindest of Telmarine fools would not have mistaken them for anything other than what they were. He had been hated, yes. He had been ostracized and mistreated, yes. Underestimated? Most assuredly. But he had never been subjugated to the likes of this. He had never been treated like a mindless animal, and swore he would never be…at least not until now.

The first time that he had been forced to attend his toilet in the tiny cage, he had cringed. But a prisoner of war could expect such indignities, and he had steeled himself with the comfort of that. However there was only so long that he could convince himself of that fact, and as the indignities piled up, the harder it was to keep that mindset. The Knight Mouse had never known anything but triumph and honor in his young life, and this was… well it was not something that he had been ready for. Bleg the Giant had let him sit in his own filth for more than a week before finally deciding that "Munch's" prison needed cleaning. At this point the combination of the constant stench and the intermittent swinging of the cage had made the poor Mouse quite ill. He was so miserable as he sat there, tiny legs tucked underneath him and whiskers drooping, that he never even realized the Giant's intentions. He had grown so used to Bleg's constant mutterings that he was unaware that the Giant's little song included himself.

"Wish wash, smish smash, dirty little Munch goes splish splash!"

On "splash", Bleg emptied an entire wash barrel of soapy water over the cage. When the last of the flood had drained out all over the Giant's feet and floor, the Mouse could be seen in the exact same position as before. The only difference was that his drenched little frame was shivering from the ice cold water, and his whiskers were drooping even more. The soap bubble on his nose had taken an hour to pop.

Reepicheep had never been treated like an animal, but days later he was sick as a dog. The combined effects of his environment and his previously cleanly manner left him weak and unable to successfully fight off disease. The cold that had settled in his tiny bones on the washday had never left, and only settled deeper in his body. By the time he would have realized he was fevered, the Mouse was already lost. He was not in a cage, he was in a ship, rocking back and forth as he and Caspian sailed the world in search of adventure. As he slipped further and further away, a tiny smile touched his mouth, for this was truly the life indeed.

After three more days, Bleg stopped poking Munch with a stick, because it didn't make him move anyways.

* * *

He was saddened, knowing what was to come. He wept for that that never had to be, but still was. And as always, he waited as choices were made.

* * *

Everything was burning.

It had first started in the very tips of his fingers and the soles of his feet, spreading rapidly over limbs and into his torso, until all that he knew was the inferno. Liquid fire dripping from pores, unquenchable and unstoppable, relentlessly driving him on. And oh, oh, so sweet was this pain. Pleasure like he had never known.

"My Prince, you have had enough," a voice near him, coaxing him back from this hazy world of pure unadulterated sensation. But he didn't want to go back.

"Leave me." Liquid in his mouth, warmth in his belly, and a fire that would not die. Pain and pleasure, intertwining so fully that there was no telling where one let off and the other began.

"You near your limits, you must…"

"_Leave_ _me_!" The sound of blow, but not to himself, and then a grunt and footsteps, but they dimmed into the background. The fire, so incredible, he never wanted this to end…

The pain leaked away as a shrill scream tore through the air. Not a cry of release, but a cry of pain and fury. The Prince slowly wakened from the haziness that had enveloped him, and looked at the figure slumped on top of him. The girl was dead, dying really, for the process of death hadn't quite completed, and her once beautiful eyes were growing glassy. With a snarl of disgust, he shoved her off of him. A few feet away, her assailant knelt silently, watching.

"You killed her, Malok," he spat at his attendant, furious but not from her death. He wrenched the knife out of her back and tossed it at the other man. "I was not done with her."

Malok rose slowly, blood seeping between shapely lips, and it was strange to see a mar upon such perfect skin. Completely black eyes flashed briefly before returning to normal blue, dying down into submission. Malok wiped his knife on a cloth drawn from within his robes.

"And yet she was nearly done with you, Highness," Malok replied bluntly, re-sheathing the weapon. "You are no use to us dead."

"Us? There is no one that I am required to be of use to," the Prince sneered. "It is you who must be useful to me, should you wish to stay in my good graces."

Malok dipped his head in acknowledgement, and the young man rose to his feet. He should have been near collapse, considering the depths the succubus had taken him to. Instead he merely seemed winded, and more than a little disappointed. Malok's surprise must have shown on his face, for the Prince looked at him and simply smirked as he clothed himself. A tunic black as night, as black as his Town. It was fitting.

"Now that you have _saved_ me from being bedded properly," the Prince said drolly, causing Malok to flush angrily. "What is it that is so important?"

"Highness?"

"You're still here," he said flatly. "I assume there's a reason."

"I am here to aid and advise you, my Prince," Malok said smoothly, taking a step closer. However the Prince took a step away at the same time, looking at the now dead succubus disdainfully. He poked her in the ribcage with the toe of his boot, and then gave her a not so gentle kick when she did not stir.

"Then aid me by removing this from my sight," he ordered. Malok immediately turned and gestured for the pair of Black Dwarves that guarded the entrance to the now empty lounge, but the Prince had other ideas.

"No, you do it yourself," the Prince grinned at the other man. "It is your mess, you take care of it." Then the Prince turned his back and headed to the far corner of the room, leaving his gave him a look that could kill, and then went about dragging the dead Creature from the room himself. As soon as he disappeared out the door, the Prince pivoted and addressed the Dwarves.

"You two both leave as well."

They looked at each other, seeming uncomfortable. The Prince's eyes narrowed.

"You leave or I will have your tongues ripped from your mouths and fed to the Ogres." They looked startled at the dangerousness of his tone. "And you will not let anyone in until I have said otherwise, including my advisor. Go. _**Now**_."

They went, looking like those that find themselves caught between two very dangerous cliffs and not sure which one to jump off. As soon as the door clicked shut, Edmund slumped, his hand over his head. Why did it hurt so badly? Why did he feel as if he had run for a fortnight? Edmund walked over to side table, covered with opulent food and drink. He poured himself a glass of wine but only took a small sip. He was so tired… he wasn't sure he really wanted to be here.

Here?

Where was here? Where was _he_? Oh yes, the Town. Why was he here? He… he ruled here. Yes, that's what it was. He was a ruler. A King. No, that wasn't right. He was a Prince. The Queen would decide if he was ever to be King, but until then he was just the Prince. And he was here because Malok had brought him here.

Filled with a sudden rage, the Prince let out a roar and threw his glass against the wall, hearing it shatter as it hit. Malok. He hated that man. He _**hated**_ him. The reason why momentarily escaped him. But he needed him. Didn't he need him? He thought perhaps he didn't. The Prince returned to the table and poured himself a second glass, draining it in one long drink. The Prince bent and picked up one of the glass shards off the floor by his feet, noticing how dark red drops still clung to its sharpest edge. He watched in fascination as he ran the shard down the length of his arm, just deep enough to watch dark red drops well up and mix with darker red drops, the drink sinking directly into his bloodstream. A shudder went through him, along with the knowledge of who he was, and just what he was capable of. He smiled cruelly.

No, he definitely didn't need Malok. And the Prince knew exactly what to do with those that he didn't need.

* * *

There were whispers going through the Town. Whispers of a new leader, one even more powerful than the Townskeeper. One that the Warlock himself bowed before. It had been a secret, this new leader, but secrets have a way of finding their way to the surface.

Of course when the Human stepped out into the middle of the Town and promptly slew the first twenty that dared to look him in the eye… well those kinds of secrets were never meant to be kept in the first place.

* * *

"What are you doing out here?" Malok's voice was smooth and calm, but the pair of Black Dwarves cringed as he addressed them. They were both hunkered down outside the door of the chamber where Edmund had been kept, and they looked as if they wished that they were anywhere but there.

"He… ahhh… we were told to stay outside," the braver of the two spoke up, his words gruff to hide his fear.

"And you listened?" The Warlock raised an eyebrow. "Did I not explain to you that it was only necessary to maintain the _illusion_ of his power?"

The Dwarf coughed uncomfortably, knowing that this answer might earn him a painful death and not being sure he was quite ready for that.

"It's just…"

"It's just what?" Once more those beautiful eyes blinked, and for a moment there was only blackness. Shivering, the Dwarf pointed his knife at the door that held the Human and took a deep breath, knowing his master would not like what he heard.

"It ain't an illusion no more."Malok stared at him for a second, and then swept past the pair and into the large room. A wave of heat hit him at the same time a sickeningly sweet stench burned into his nostrils. Despite the many things he had experienced in his abnormally long life, what he saw made him stop in his tracks.

There was blood everywhere.

It splattered the walls and pooled on the floor, although it was hard to tell how much because the place was filled with Creatures, shoulder to shoulder as they crowded in on each other. They were screaming and yelling in excitement, the way they did when faced with the most brutal of violence. For a moment terror filled the beautiful man, thinking that perhaps his Townsfolk had turned on the Human in their midst, tearing him to shreds for his very presence. However as he stepped forward, allowing those in his way to crumple into limp heaps at his feet, a path parted before him and allowed him to see.

Two Creatures were in the midst of the circled crowd, held there and driven to madness by cuts and jabs of the circle's weapons. It was a nearly forgotten past time from the time of Winter, where it amused those in power to watch their enemies suffer emotional distress along with physical pain. Forced to die at the hands of the crowd or fight, they were fighting desperately. It was an unfair match, a Minotaur and a fire spirit. The Minotaur was covered in painful scorch marks, but it kept trying to fight its elusive opponent. Heavy backhanded swings of its axe merely cut through the fire, the insubstantial flame parting and then remerging once the blow was ended. Malok watched as the fire spirit's delicate hands flicked out and touched the Minotaur on the wrist, holding on for long enough that flame raced up the larger creature's arm. Within moments it was engulfed in fire, screaming and snarling as it tried to put out the flames, only to find itself falling beneath the ready hands and teeth of the crowds. However they paused long enough to hear a voice speak very casually, yet full of authority, audible even with the noise.

"He has lost. Kill him." Malok watched them tear the Minotaur apart. Then he heard soft laughter and looked up. From his seat of honor on the far side of the circle, the Prince met Malok's eyes and grinned.

"Your Highness," Malok started to say, not sure exactly how to handle this. His illusions were powerful, but only to the one that it was cast upon. Yet it seemed as if this whole place seemed to believe it as well, doing as the Son of Adam said. He struggled beneath the weight of the look the boy king sent his way, struggled beneath the _strength_ he saw there. Was this why she wanted him so badly? He was intimidating, even to the one that controlled him.

The young man didn't answer. The crowds had finished with the Minotaur, and now were watching the Prince expectantly. He didn't disappoint. A cheer went up as the lanky youth rose to hit feet, as graceful as a cat as he drew he sword and stepped down amongst the crowd and into the circle. The fire spirit watched him carefully. Fear spiked up from Malok's gut, realizing that his snared rabbit was about to get spitted and cooked.

"Your Highness!" Malok snarled, attempting to intervene, but at a gesture from the Prince, the crowds shoved in on him, more excited about the fight then fearful of the Warlock. It was a mistake as several of them staggered and collapsed before they had the sense to move back. However the Prince had already engaged his opponent, his sword flicking in and out, dancing with fire as the two moved. Seeming very displeased, Malok placed himself at the edge of the circle, readying himself for the moment needed for him to protect the stupid child.

However the Prince was not stupid and was far from needing protection.

There is a rumor that says that elementals cannot be killed by anything other than another stronger elemental, but that is mostly because no one was ever quite clever enough to figure out how to do it. It had never been done. However, in thirteen hundred years, a lot of things can be forgotten, especially those things that were never common knowledge in the first place. But in the Golden Age of Narnia, there had been a man that had fought nearly everything there was to fight, one who for love of his brother and sisters was the first on the battle field, and one who for love of a friend had to _learn_ how to kill an elemental. It was knowledge earned by blood and blade and not forgotten lightly, even like this centuries later.

Malok watched the Prince shift his stance, dancing back on light feet as fire reached for him. And as that fire returned, re-condensing into the shape of the creature that controlled it, the Human struck. He moved so fast that Malok's eyes widened, seeing what the crowd missed. In the moments after its attack and withdrawal, the elemental was solid for just the slightest of split seconds. That was all that this swordsman needed however, and the first plunge of his sword buried itself in the elemental's chest. It shrieked, an awful unearthly sound, bursting into flames that billowed towards the Prince. Everyone in the room flinched back from the sudden heat, but when they looked at the circle once more, only the Human remained. He was leaning on his sword with a smirk on his slightly charred face. The Townsfolk screamed and cheered him, to his disdainful amusement. That was when the Warlock realized just what the Human had done to earn the respect of the Town, and how much of this blood had been spilt by the boy himself.

"Impressive, your Highness," Malok said quietly, picking his way carefully through the remains of the many that had fought already. He bowed politely. "Most impressive."

The young man grinned at him, a look that instinctively made the Warlock wary. Malok pushed at the Human's mind, only to find it thickly muddled, nearly obstinate about refusing to be molded. Perhaps he had used too much pressure on him already? Had driven him out of his mind?

"I decided today that I like the color of red," was the Prince's reply. "I wished to see more of it."

"And so you have," Malok replied, trying to judge his mood and the mood of the crowd. The Warlock didn't particularly like the way that the Prince was watching him, nor how the Townsfolk seemed to have noticed as well and were shifting slightly inwardly.

"Not enough."

Malok's head snapped up, and his eyes narrowed. "Should I take that as a threat, Highness?"

"More as an opportunity," was the reply, and a touch of victory rang in his voice. "The rule of the hour, my retainer: kill or be killed. The lifeblood of my Town flows as _I_ see fit. Now… prove yourself to me. Or let them do the same."

So quick to bite the hand that feeds them, Malok thought ironically as the crowd took another step towards him. He had always filled them with fear, enough that they obeyed him. But in this boy they saw power and bloodlust, and they didn't obey him. They _followed_ him. How quickly the tables turned. Malok just smirked, wondering why he had bothered to put this Human under a spell in the first place. If he was so inclined towards the evilness in his own heart, then it would have only been a matter of time before he had been turned. Perhaps that was why she had wanted him alive.

"If your Highness insists," Malok smirked. He had wanted to do this for years anyways.

Malok knelt before the Human in mock subservience, bowing his head, his long white hair falling past his beautiful face. He had been a terror in the lives of this Town, and they pressed in eagerly to take him down. The Warlock's head slowly rose and he locked completely black eyes with the Prince's. This time they stayed black. The pressure in the room increased, as if the air was growing heavier and harder, and the ground began to tremor, as if suppressing something. An icy chill swept over limbs and faces, freezing breathes as they exhaled, slowing movement to the point of a crawl. Then, as they began to realize just what he was about to do to them, it was already too late. A surge of power hit the Townsfolk, shattering them as they stood. The explosion rocked the building, the shaking only dying down when the black drained like ink out of Malok's eyes. All around him the remains of the Townsfolk lay scattered, thawing into a bloody grisly mess. Panting from the exertion, yet reveling in his power, Malok raised smirking eyes to the Prince.

Unfortunately the Prince was no longer there. Turning his head in confusion, knowing that he had protected the young man from the attack, Malok found warm wet steel against his throat, a seductive voice whispering in his ear.

"This is my Town, Warlock. And soon, it will be my world. But there is no need to share it with you."

He was too weak to fight back fast enough, momentarily drained of his Magic, but he was conscious enough to understand that he had been outsmarted by a child. His last thought before his head was cleaved from his body was that even with him dead, she would still be pleased by this, and that he was too pretty to die in such a dirty fashion. Then he thought no more.

* * *

In the darkness of the alley, abandoned by those he loved, the Dwarf closed his eyes and waited to die.

In the darkness of a cage, drowning in his own waste and unable to remember what it was like to hold his head up with pride, the Mouse closed his eyes and waited to die.

In the darkness of his own heart, a cruel and painful realization was made. As true redemption slipped from bloody fingertips, the man whimpered out the name of his master and wondered if this was what it felt like to truly be dead inside.

* * *

The two Dwarves had been tempted to flee the building when it had started shaking, but they were more afraid of the commands of the two that still remained inside the room. However it was not the noises from in there that terrified them, it was when all sources of noise stopped. The silence was more than the one Dwarf could take, and his shot nerves drove him out of the building. Therefore it was the single one that sat hunched over next to the door, knife in a death grip as he waited. Finally after an eternity, the doors swung open and the Human stepped out. He was covered in blood, his dripping sword in one hand and the head of the Townskeeper dangling from the other. No one else from the group in that room came out after him. The Dwarf shrank back as cold eyes met his own.

"You will take me to my traveling companions, at once," he said flatly, dropping Malok's head in the Dwarf's lap. Cringing from the shock that still remained on the Warlock's face, the Dwarf jumped up to his feet, kicking away the present.

"Y-y-yes, your Highness," the Dwarf nearly squeaked, hustling as fast as his little legs would take him down the hall. Three corridors down there was a staircase, leading into the basement. There, on the last door on the left, was a tiny room, barred with a wooden board so that anything inside could not open it. Bound and thrown in the far corner were two shapes, both of which were familiar.

"Go now, and tell no one or I may add another head to my pile."

That was all the encouragement that the Black Dwarf needed. He fled, leaving them alone. It was only then that King Edmund hit his knees and began to retch.

* * *

Someone was shaking him, and Trumpkin didn't appreciate it.

"Get off'uhme," he muttered, shoving at the hand on his shoulder.

"Friend Dwarf, we need to get out of here," the voice said urgently. "Wake up." Trumpkin just muttered, wondering why the alley wall in front of him was growing blurry. How much had he drunk this time?

"I haven't gotten any friends," Trumpkin spat, shoving off the shoulder again. "Go back in your bar and rot."

"Trumpkin!" The voice grew very stern, causing the Dwarf to instinctively jerk. Everything was so blurry… what was going on? The alley seemed a whole lot smaller and darker, and smelled (if it was believable, which it hardly was) even worse. "By order of your King, I command you to rouse yourself! Now!"

"My King?" Trumpkin started laugh a bit hysterically, even as he blinked rapidly, trying to see the figure that hovered overhead, peering down at him. "My King left me here to rot in the Aslan forsaken place. Some fucking King, abandoned me."

He continued to laugh until finally a sharp strike across his face rocked the Dwarf backwards, and he let out an oath as he felt blood drip down his lip. Despite the blow, the voice that addressed him was not angry, sounding instead truly and deeply saddened.

"Nay friend Dwarf, I did not leave you. Nor would I ever."

"You are not him. My King left me weeks ago," Trumpkin insisted, although he was not so sure himself. He felt as if he was coming out of a nightmare. After much blinking his vision cleared, revealing Edmund. The young King looked awful, as if he had just been through a terrible battle. But after searching for so long, the Dwarf wasn't sure that it wasn't just his minds playing tricks on him.

"Not weeks, Trumpkin, days only, and if I was not still by your side, it was not by choice." Edmund gripped his hand hard, peering desperately into his eyes. "You are my comrade, and my trusted friend, and I would die before I abandoned you. But we will all die if we do not get out of this Town right sodding now!"

Trumpkin began shivering, shaking his head vehemently.

"No, no, I'm no fool boy. I'm no fool. I don't know what's going on but I'm no fool."

"Then you must trust that I do, and that I will get us all out of here. Your mind has been drugged, and you're confused. But look around. You have been kept prisoner here, and we need to escape. We don't have much time and we need to move right now. If I have to drag your heavy ass out of here by the bloody beard, I will, Trumpkin!"

Trumpkin stared at him, as if he still didn't believe it, then suddenly and much to Edmund's shock, the Dwarf gripped his arm and pulled Edmund into a rough embrace. Edmund hugged him back as the small Narnian began to sniffle, which despite the Dwarf fighting against it, became several deep choking sobs. Edmund waited for Trumpkin to gather himself, wondering just what the hell his comrade had been through in these last days and praying it was not anything like what had happened to him. Refusing to let himself dwell on himself, Edmund steadied his man and looked him in the eye.

"I know you're confused, we all were and I think I know why. We had a spell over us… I think maybe one that kept going because of the drink they gave us. Both you and Reep reek of alcohol, and there's no reason why they would waste that on prisoners."

At the mention of the Mouse, Trumpkin jerked his head around, wincing in pain, trying to find his other comrade.

"This whole time, I never even thought about him…" the deep guilt was evident in his voice as he stared at the little Mouse off to the right. Edmund finished releasing his binds and together they set about freeing Reepicheep from the Mouse's own. The poor little guy was soaking wet and shivering. They must have just dumped the wine over him instead of forcing him to drink, a difficult feat considering his size and mouth shape.

"It wasn't you," Edmund said gruffly, trying and failing to wake up the Mouse. "Don't let it get to you right now, we just have to get out of here. I killed the Warlock, but it's only a matter of time before someone decides to come poking around."

Trumpkin just shook his head and took off his cloak, wrapping it around the Mouse for extra warmth and hoisting him up to his shoulder to carry. Edmund was the better swordsman and considering the death grip the King had on his weapon, he wouldn't be putting it down too soon. Trumpkin watched how Edmund moved very carefully, making sure that the amount of blood that stained his tunic was not his own. He would ask him the source of those stains later, when they were well away from this place.

"I don't know," the Dwarf whispered, thinking about the last few weeks, days if he was to believe Edmund. "It felt like me, it felt like me thinking… I may have been under a spell, but I was still who I am, all those feelings were still mine. " He failed to see how Edmund flinched at that. "Not to think of Reep once… it just doesn't seem right. How did you get free of it, your Majesty?"

Edmund's face hardened as he muttered something about cutting the head off the serpent as he peered out into the hall warily.

"Come on," he finally ordered, his voice tight. "Let's get out of here."

The entire time, the Dwarf expected to see the building flood with Creatures intent on keeping them here, but as Edmund led him through the winding corridors, they encountered not a soul. However the stench of bodies was in the air, and the sheer volume of it caused Trumpkin to come dangerously close to vomiting. If Edmund noticed, then his face only grew grimmer and he said nothing. Reepicheep moaned incoherently on Trumpkin's shoulder, and the only words he could make out were "munch" and "crunch". The Dwarf shook his head, deciding it was another thing to wonder about later. Finally they managed to find the exit of the building and he wondered why the King walked straight outside without attempting to hide himself at all.

He wondered it again when he saw the whole Town spread out before them, all eyes on the King.

"Your Majesty…?" Trumpkin muttered, but Edmund didn't reply. Instead he stepped down into the crowd. The Dwarf watched in shock as the crowd shifted back, as if fearful. Truly the only ones that seemed unaffected were the four Ghouls that moved forward. Trumpkin vaguely remembered being drug down into the room by the same kind, and he wondered if perhaps they were planning on trying it again. A touch of a pained grimace touched Edmund's face before it fell away into cold intent. It took three and a half seconds for all four to end up on the ground, screeching and keening from loss of limb and other unpleasantness. Edmund coolly wiped off his sword on a dying Ghoul's cloak and straightened.

"Anyone else want to get in my way?" he asked softly. This time the crowd parted, and even Trumpkin himself shivered at the look in his King's eye. Following so close that he nearly stepped on the King's heels, the Dwarf and the unconscious Mouse fled the Town at a terrifyingly stately least this time Trumpkin didn't get left, and as he scurried after Edmund, he decided that he would never speak of this to anyone. A Dwarf, hiding behind his King's coat tails… It was indecent really. And if he did so well after they had left this awful Town behind, well then who would believe it anyway? His shame was between him and Edmund alone.

The unconscious Mouse's nose twitched.

* * *

The Wolf rose to a half sitting position when the three finally appeared on the rocky path below him. It amused him slightly that the Dwarf teetered as if drunk and the Mouse was wrapped up in a cloak like a huge blanket. The Human… the Human merely looked at him, meeting his eyes and holding them until unbelievably the Wolf was the one to look away. Maugrim covered this indiscretion by sniffing the air delicately, wrinkling it at the smell of so much death and darkness that permeated the trio. He stood up and stretched.

"You're late," was all he said before turning and leading them away from the Town. Knowing better than to stop now and not knowing what might still be after them, they followed Maugrim where the trail led them deep into the castle of the White Witch. The Beast of Witherby crept silently along behind them, downwind of the Wolf's nose, every once in a while reaching out to brush the boy's back with its stinger before blending back into the shadows as the young King looked around.

Yes. This one was much worthier indeed.

.

.

.

A/N This chapter is shorter because it just wouldn't fit properly with the rest of chapter 13. So it gets to stand alone. (props up wobbly chapter and bolts)


	15. Chapter 14

A/N I slammed out 130,000 words on this fic and then hit a wall. A big fat super wall. It took me this long to scratch my way through it. Poor fingernails. Stupid stupid super wall…

**The Lost Chronicles of Narnia: The Beast of Witherby**

Chapter Fourteen

The empty halls echoed with the sounds of dueling footsteps.

Caspian strode through the castle, his expression nearly as hard as the man's that followed him. Lord Tenneth was keeping up with his King, although the length of Caspian's stride made the older man's newly acquired limp more pronounced. To the casual bystander it might appear that the King of Narnia cared little for the pain of his retainer's wound, but that was the furthest thing from the truth. Caspian was very much aware of Tenneth's injury, but he refused to insult the dignity of his former teacher by slowing his own steps. They might be in Narnia, they might be Narnians, but they were also Telmarines, and weakness was to be avoided at all costs.

The High King was already waiting for them when they entered the great council room, reclining in his throne with the ease of one that has been sitting there for a while. It wouldn't surprise Caspian if Peter had spent most of his night there. Aslan knew that Caspian himself had slept more than one night wrapped in gilded stone, unable to free himself mentally or physically from the burdens of the crown. The Telmarine lifted his hand slightly and Tenneth immediately fell back, closing and locking the doors behind them.

"You are here early," Caspian said to Peter as he settled into a throne next to his friend, the one usually reserved for Edmund. Caspian had no desire to spend the morning speaking across the council room to be heard.

"And you look as if you have not slept," Caspian added, noticing the dusty circles around his eyes. Peter gave him a rueful smile.

"I had bad dreams," the High King admitted. Caspian raised an eyebrow but Peter just shrugged.

"Do you wish this meeting private?" Caspian glanced pointedly at the door where Tenneth had placed himself, feet squared and back straight.

"No, this actually needs to be brought to the General's attention. Tenneth." The older man's head snapped up alertly and he marched across the throne room to stand before the Kings at attention. A touch of amusement turned Peter's lips. "Relax, milord, you look overly controlled."

"I am the General of the Telmarine army," Tenneth replied flatly. "It is my job to be overly controlled."

Caspian suppressed his smirk, despite the fact that he was pretty sure the general was joking. With Tenneth it was hard to tell.

"First off," Peter said, his face relaxed but his tone serious. "Before anything else is discussed, has every grievance been properly aired between us all?"

"Sire?" Tenneth seemed confused.

"Yesterday was unfortunate, but it was yesterday," Peter elaborated. "I meant every word I said to both of you, but today we have much more pressing matters. So I ask everyone here: have all of our grievances been aired? If not then we need to get them out. I will not have the day's work sullied by harsh feelings. If you two need to have another go at each other, then by all means do it. As far as I am concerned, my feelings have been made plain to everyone present. I am content. Are you?"

Both Caspian and Tenneth looked at each other for a long silent moment, but finally the general bowed low to both monarchs, indicating his compliance.

"I am content," Caspian said quietly, "But my instincts say that the general is not." Tenneth straightened, and had the expression of one that feels uncomfortable in the position they were in. Truthfully, under the eyes of the two most powerful men in the Kingdom, he should have been.

"Do you wish to speak, milord?" Peter inquired with deceptive mildness. He might have had issue with Tenneth last night, but he was a wealth of knowledge and this morning Peter knew they _needed_ him. "Short of drawing steel, you will not be punished unduly for your opinion. I need your focus today, not your resentment."

Tenneth looked down at the ground in front of him, clenching his jaw tightly, then his face smoothed and he looked back up.

"I would ask forgiveness for my lack of discretion yesterday," Tenneth finally said in his gravelly voice. "I should not have entered into a challenge with the royal throne, no matter what my feelings on the matter. It was not appropriate for one of my station, and it caused undue distress to the Queen. My inability to hold my tongue last night only fueled matters. I apologize."

"The throne challenged _you_, Tenneth," Caspian told him honestly. "The only lack of propriety I have seen has been your comment to the Queen yester morning. She was distraught long before the dual, and it was not until I heard of your conversation that I understood why. I will not have anyone distressing her so, and certainly not you."

"I only sought to warn the Queen that her actions had consequences," the older man replied, explaining but not excusing himself. "That they were not wise when it came to her safety."

"I could say the same for yours," Caspian remarked pointedly and the general flushed, once more looking down. Caspian shared a look with Peter then lightened his tone. "The next time you have issue come to us, not her. Just because she is Queen does not mean that she should be expected to deal with such things."

"Yes, Sire," Tenneth bowed again and Caspian let it drop. Peter had watched the exchange and was giving Caspian a tiny look of approval, pleased the other King had kept his temper about a Su issue.

"Now, to the point of this meeting," Peter settled in his throne, running one hand through his hair absently. It did nothing to keep the blonde clumps from falling back in his eyes. "We were attacked on our way back from the How yesterday."

Tenneth's head immediately snapped up, his eyes narrowing. This was news to him. Briefly the High King went through the course of events, including the improbable escape. He did not gloss over the fact that Aslan had saved them. Peter was learning to give credit where credit was due.

"They were skilled in both blade and saddle," the High King summed up. "Definitely trained to ride together, they way they swept in at us and kept formation. The horses were fit, not peasant nags. The riders wore hoods, but they were definitely human."

Caspian looked less than pleased at his last statement.

"Then it is probable the attack came from our own forces," the King admitted unhappily, but Tenneth was shaking his head.

"I ran through an inspection yesterday, Sire," the General stated. "If there was a many as you say, then there would have been a noticeable lessening in the ranks. We have many men but not that many trained horses. We lost some of the best of them at the How."

"How big is the Telmarine army exactly, Tenneth?" Peter wanted to know. "Infantry and cavalry both."

"In total?" The general pursed his lips. "Are we counting the men pledged by the council lords or just Caspian's own men?"

"Just my own," Caspian decided. Then he tipped his head to the side. "Hold on, more importantly how much of the Telmarine army is currently housed on the palace grounds and in the surrounding city?"

"The entirety of the royal guard is housed here, although most live in town with their families. They make up approximately forty percent of the total army, as is important for protection purposes. Actually I would be much happier if that number was closer to sixty percent. I would rather a majority should any of the council lords decide to bid for the throne themselves and have the sense to band together."

"A hostile takeover?" Peter mussed. The youth in him briefly found the idea exciting, but the rest of him was not at all happy about it. "How likely would it be that could happen? The council disliked Miraz and yet they didn't try such an overt action."

"Miraz preempted them, High King," Tenneth replied in a bland tone. "He had the most dangerous of them shipped away, those who would have supported Caspian especially. Glozelle was not a strong lord in the council room, but he had the most men available to him. Miraz won him by giving him a position of power over men that had always treated him disdainfully. The rest were waiting to see the kind of king Caspian would make before risking direct confrontation with the royal uncle."

"What mean you, Tenneth?" Caspian asked, even though he wasn't sure he wanted to know. "What difference would my kingship have made?"

"The council was waiting to see if you would be as weak a king as Miraz was trying to make you," the general admitted, looking slightly regretful that he was telling Caspian this. "Surely your Majesty can see how your education could have been directed in a way more fitting the future King? Such subjects as strategy and economics and their like were deliberately withheld, ensuring that you would be dependent on those who knew how to run a kingdom already."

"Such as my uncle," Caspian muttered, shaking his head. "Then I suppose that it is fortunate that my professor was brave enough to teach such things in secret. He never did tell me why, but he always insisted I speak of our lessons to no one."

"If Miraz would have contained his ambitions, it is possible that he could have ruled through you as he desired," Tenneth didn't try to soften that comment for Caspian's benefit. "But his greed drove him too far. He had alienated so much of the council that had you taken the throne, they would have done their best to convince you of his treachery. Should that have failed, they would have attempted to displace you both. The events at Beruna and the presence of the Kings and Queens of Old have since sent their plans askew."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Peter quipped, giving Caspian a bit of a rakish grin. "Sounds like your countrymen are asses."

"Thanks, awfully," Caspian murmured back.

"The total of the Telmarine army was nearly four thousand men, although after the war the number has decreased to about three thousand, if you count those that can be called in from their farms and shops as a last resort," Tenneth finished, ignoring the kings' comments. "Approximately twelve hundred are yours, Sire, half of which are career soldiers. In prior times, at any point in rotation three hundred men were on palace grounds available immediately. As of this morning the rotation has been increased to four hundred."

"That decision was not made by me," Caspian noted to the general, raising an eyebrow.

"It was done in counter to the increasing number of men being brought into the town and the castle by some of the other lords," Tenneth replied stiffly. "I was ordered to maintain a higher level of protection, and felt it a sufficient deterrent."

"Wait a minute," Peter interjected. "Just how many are we talking about here?"

"His Majesty had the townsfolk emptied out of the castle and back into their homes. Those that left have been gradually replaced by members of the Lords' personal guards." Tenneth was watching Caspian as he spoke. The young King's face had gone a bit pale. "…By allowance of the King himself."

"Caspian?" Peter turned to his friend.

"Aye, I allowed it," Caspian acknowledged in a tight voice. "The Lord Baerd expressed concern about the poisoning and asked if he could increase his men to feel safer."

"Did you give him a limit to the number?" Peter demanded.

"I said within _reason_," Caspian spoke through gritted teeth. It was too early in the morning for this.

"Oh, hell," Peter groaned and leaned back in his throne, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "Let me guess, the other lords decided to follow suit." Tenneth didn't even have to answer.

"Why am I just learning about this?" Caspian demanded of his general, frustrated.

"Because I just learned of it, Sire," Tenneth replied calmly. "The men were brought into the castle in pairs and threes and kept tucked out of sight. Actually I wasn't alerted of it until one of the Rabbits noticed that too much wine was being consumed for the number of rooms it was going to. They informed me yesterday and it took until this morning to discern how many were actually here."

"And I say again, why wasn't I informed at the time?"

Tenneth's expression turned a little irritated.

"His Majesty and Queen Susan could not be located at the time the issue was brought to my attention," Tenneth said flatly. Peter leveled a look at Caspian, who had the decency to flush. However Peter had more important things to discuss. He opened his mouth, but Caspian had already beaten him to it.

"How many soldiers are in the castle and under which lords?" the Telmarine King wanted to know.

"As far as we can tell, the number is approximately two hundred and fifty men, the greatest number belonging to Lord Baerd." Tenneth smirked a touch. "He looked especially nervous this morning when I saw him. He knows that I have become aware of his actions, although I did not say as much."

"And the others?" Peter asked. "Who are their liege lords?"

"I do not know, but I would assume that it would be one or even all of the other council lords. There is a constant struggle for power, and having arms this close to the throne makes Beard very dangerous to everyone."

"We have to get all of these men out of the here," Caspian decided worriedly, standing up and pacing around. "This place is big, but not _that_ big. If even one person draws steel, there could be a full out battle in the castle halls. This is _not_ good."

"Just order them out," Peter suggested, but Caspian and Tenneth were both shaking their heads.

"It is not that easy, Peter," Caspian explained, his dark eyes narrowing. "It is by right of royal decree that Baerd has them here. I cannot revoke my approval without reason, and to order the withdrawal of the personal guards could be taken as a threat to the lords' personages. I might be able to ask Beard to lessen his total number of men, but no less than any other. To admit that I do not want them here because I fear conflict would only stoke a fire I wish to put out."

Peter was aghast. "You're telling me that this entire castle is full of Telmarine soldiers just sitting around and waiting to fight, and there's not a thing we can do about it?"

Caspian just gave him a slightly sick look.

"I think I need a drink," Peter decided, closing his eyes. But Caspian was thinking very fast as he paced.

"Lord Tenneth," he said curtly. "We did not notice the influx of so many men because they came into the castle in small groups, correct?"

"Correct, Sire."

"How did you know that they were soldiers? Because of what they wore?"

Tenneth looked a tad offended.

"They wore clothing similar to townsfolk," the general said. "And when they traverse the castle they do so by the servants' corridors to blend in. But I would know a trained Telmarine solider when I saw one, your Majesty. And especially these. There are some elite amongst them."

"Elite?" Peter wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"The best warriors we've got," Caspian told him. "Swordfighters and such. There used to be more but the How took a lot of them out. But the point is that we are not supposed to know they are the lords' soldiers, correct?"

"Hence all the subterfuge, your Majesty," Tenneth's eyes were starting to brighten as he followed his King's line of thought.

"Then I think I have a plan."

Caspian outlined it in full, although Peter and the general each had their own recommendations as to how it could succeed with less chance of life loss. Finally they came to an agreement.

"That still leaves us with these hooded riders," the High King felt complied to add. "Not that this isn't as important, but that lot nearly took both Lu and I down in the river." He rubbed his shoulder, as if simply thinking of the arrow made it hurt.

"Let me think on it," Caspian said, frowning. "I don't like the idea that anyone feels confident enough to attack the High King himself, or is callous enough to attack a group of innocents."

"Many in the town still don't feel as if the Old Narnians are innocent, Sire," Tenneth's words were flat, and his expression said nothing about if he agreed or disagreed. Caspian's frown deepened.

"Emotions are still strained in the city, especially amongst the peasants," the Telmarine King murmured to himself. "The poor seem to resent the loss of life more than the wealthy."

"How do you know this?" Peter asked curiously, but Caspian only shook his head slightly, saying only that things got around to him eventually. Tenneth's eyes flickered from one king to the next, but he pretended to be oblivious to the exchange.

"The poor rarely ride good horses and these were trained men," the High King mused thoughtfully. "I would expect another riot before I would expect an attack to come in this form from commoners. Somebody doesn't like us here, and it's someone with the money and the power to try to remove us. That narrows it down considerably."

Silence fell between the three men, so long that it grew uncomfortable. Finally Tenneth cleared his throat.

"Permission to carry out your commands, your Majesties?" he asked respectfully, but his dark eyes were clouded. Peter nodded, but Tenneth hesitated just a brief second until Caspian did as well before bowing low and limping briskly out of the room. When the door closed, leaving the two young men alone, Peter looked over at Caspian.

"Do _you_ trust him?" Peter asked softly, raising an eyebrow at his friend. Caspian's hand strayed to his sword hilt, as he stared at the place his former instructor had disappeared. A slightly sad expression touched his face as he slumped back in his throne.

"Do you?" was all Caspian had to say.

* * *

The Queens were holding court.

It would be an understatement to say that the attending lords and ladies were surprised when only Lucy and Susan entered the throne room that morning. As highest ranking monarch present, Susan seated herself upon Caspian's throne, with Lucy next to her in a chair much grander than what had been supplied the day before. Unconsciously Lucy seemed to emulate her sister, and the littlest Queen sat straighter with her hands resting regally upon smoothed skirts. Unlike most her age she did not fidget, instead looking about the room with piercing eyes.

Susan wasn't the only one ready for this morning to not go smoothly. Much to everyone's surprise, it was little Lucy who was the first to address those gathered. She smiled benevolently, although her court of thirteen hundred years ago would have seen the stiffness these Narnians and Telmarines did not notice.

"The throne grants welcome to any and all to approach with their desires and grievances," the Queen said in a clear voice. "They will be heard and dealt with fairly, as has ever been done in Narnia under just rule."That sent a ripple through the crowd as they tried to figure out if the youngest monarch spoke unwittingly, or if she was really brave enough to openly criticize the past Telmarine rulers. Susan had to contain a small smirk, having not expected for Lucy to add that last part to the ritual opening statement and knowing exactly what her sister meant. Edmund would have been beaming with pride.

"Lord Donnon," Susan said once the murmurs in the room had gone down. "I have been informed that you had a case to make this morning. Please do so."

The Telmarine stepped forward and bowed to the thrones, hiding his surprise skillfully.

"Your Majesties," Donnon said smoothly, looking extremely apologetic. "I admit to being unprepared for said case. If you would be so good as to allow me another day or so…"

The tone of his voice said that his request was so understandable that it must be granted, however Susan simply raised an eyebrow at him.

"Strange, sir, when you pressured the King unduly for this chance to be heard," Susan said clearly, unsurprised at his reluctance. Donnon, like many of the lords, had managed to pull several reluctant concessions from Caspian, and he used those every chance he had to further himself. It was more to his benefit to address the King himself. "The issues of three separate men and one Beast were pushed back to make room for you at your insistence, and yet you are unprepared? I find that hard to believe."

A flash of irritation passed over Donnon's face, but that too was hidden as he straightened.

"The King knows the details of my argument, your Majesty," he countered. "Upon hearing that King Caspian would not be holding court today, I assumed that I would be bypassed until he once more was available to continue the discussion. Again, my apologies."

"You have nothing to apologize for," Susan said sweetly. "But if you do not wish to speak of your case today, when there has been made time available, then I will have to push your issue to the last of the list. I assure you milord, that it is a very long list. The choice is yours."

Lord Donnon stood silently, his eyes locked on the Queen's. Finally he dropped his gaze, but his eyes narrowed dangerously. Lucy watched the two, having a good clue as to what Donnon was thinking. He was weighing out Susan's words in his mind and was trying to decide whether to give credence to her threat. He was deciding if he could out maneuver her, and unfortunately this Telmarine did not dismiss Susan as quickly as his cohorts might have. She had the ear of the King, and he was becoming a stronger one every passing moment.

"Then I must beg forgiveness your Majesty, if during my words I bumble like a fool before you," Donnon had made his decision, and it was the one that Susan had figured he would make, even if it was the one that made life more difficult for her. The courtiers chuckled amongst themselves, because Lord Donnon had never bumbled and he was no fool.

"Many men have been fools before Su, milord," Lucy said cheekily. "At least you may survive the encounter with some of your pride attached."

Donnon's steady gaze jerked to Lucy quickly, and his eyes once more narrowed. Groaning inside, Susan wondered just what had gotten into Lucy today. She was deliberately provoking this man. If Su didn't know better, she would have thought that Lucy didn't like him. Lord Donnon smiled and nodded in amusement, but Susan could see his brain working furiously. For a brief moment the eldest Queen regretted her decision to do this in Caspian's stead, but she figured that her suitor had enough to deal with right now.

"I have ever believed that a prideful man is the one that falls quickest, your Majesties," Lord Donnon said silkily, and with a modesty that neither Queen believed. "If I was to be a fool for you Queen Susan, then I would only be joining the ranks of the few and the overly privileged. It would be an honor indeed."

Susan stiffened as she caught the ever so subtle slight to Caspian, but she kept her countenance mild and her tone light.

"In my time as Queen of Narnia, honors were bestowed only as they were earned," she replied with a touch of a smile. "I would rather keep company with honest fools than clever snakes painted green with envy. We can be thankful that such snakes have been driven from these great halls. If any so remain I would beg a brave man slay it for me, for I am only a simple female and I so do hate serpents."

Lucy barely restrained herself from clapping, but her grin said it all. Susan remained still, eyes locked on Lord Donnon's. This time when he smiled it was a real one, full of genuine amusement.

"Consider my sword to be at your disposal, your Majesty," Donnon said with a flourish. "Although it might be hard to find such serpents you speak of, for they blend in very well. I will have to devote myself wholeheartedly to their removal, and as soon as my case has been made, I will do so at once."

Lucy could tell that this was not the reaction her sister had expected, and realized that she needed to cover Susan's momentary disconcert. Being struck with a sudden idea, she drew Donnon's attention to herself.

"Oh, how wonderful!" she said with delight. "It has been so long since either of us has had a champion, Susan. Since Caspian has made it clear how he will always champion you, dear sister, I believe I shall take the dear Lord Donnon as my own. It is so good of you to have offered, Donnon, considering how busy you always are. Do not worry, I promise not to occupy _all_ of your time." Lucy beamed at the man, watching his jaw drop, then close quickly.

As Donnon stood stunned, Susan moved in quickly, ignoring for the moment the consequences of what Lucy had just done.

"I have been informed by the court scribes that you seek to gain the throne's permission to extend your lands, milord," Susan said bluntly. "You wish to take them into the Shuddering Woods in return for allowing Dwarven miners inside your borders. However, as Caspian has explained to you repeatedly, it is impossible to justify the allowance of one of the lords of the council to extend his lands when all may not. Furthermore, the taxes paid by the miners will more than make up for the loss of revenue on land that was only occupied by the occasional herd of sheep."

Susan didn't let Donnon interrupt, instead plowing on as if she didn't hear his attempts to speak.

"As the King has stated more than once, he intends to give the Narnians back their fair share of this land, without undue relocation of the current Telmarine population. By extending your lands in that direction, this would be in complete contradiction to the intent of the King, and my sister and I cannot in good conscience allow that to happen."

"Your Majesty, it is more complex than what you are making it!" Donnon had recovered enough to burst in when she was pausing between breathes, but Susan held up her hand imperiously.

"And I am just a simple girl, milord," Susan smiled sweetly, the smile that had brought whole countries to their knees. "So I will have to do what seems most simple. As far as I can see, your worst problem is that you have nowhere for you to graze your sheep, and as your Queen I cannot allow your herds to go hungry. Therefore it is royal decree that the Lord Donnon's sheep all be brought to the palace gardens and allowed to graze to their hearts content." Susan beamed at Lucy. "See sister, I told you that we would find a more sensible way to keep the grasses down. They do scratch my skirts so as they are."

"Your Majesty, that is simply unnecessary," Donnon declared, realizing that she was taking so much of his livestock away from him. "I have the lands to feed them sufficiently, that was never my objection-"

"Oh good," Susan declared happily. "I love it when an issue is resolved. Now, we must move on to the next case. Lord Beard, wasn't it?"

Lord Baerd seemed to suddenly be nowhere to be found, as were several of the minor lords. In the middle of the throne room, Donnon stood motionless, seething with anger.

"I believe that you are mistaken, Queen Susan," Lord Donnon began to growl, but he was smoothly interrupted by the loud thumping of boot heels hitting stone as the King entered the throne room. The gathered onlookers immediately dropped down in respectfully deep bows and curtseys. As he passed by, Caspian gave Donnon a benign nod of greeting, then he bowed to both the Queens.

"Good morning your Majesties," Caspian said with a sweet smile. "I see you have settled the lord's problems, my queen. That is good news, for after several days of deliberation I believe both Lord Donnon and I were beginning to grow weary of each other."

"No one could grow weary of you, Caspian," Lucy said with a real smile of happiness. She had not seen him last night and knew little of his and Susan's quarrel. The Queen stood up from her seat and hugged Caspian without restraint. "I missed you," she whispered to him privately, her smile wavering for only the briefest of moments.

"And I you, little Lu," he told her, kneeling down and kissing her cheek affectionately. Then he turned and saw that Donnon had still not moved, although his jaw was working furiously. The King raised an eyebrow at him. "Did you need something, milord?"

Donnon knew when he was outnumbered and he knew when he had been beaten. Bowing low, the Lord ground his teeth, saying, "No, your Majesty."

"Good," Caspian decided, as if oblivious to the malice rolling off the lord in waves. "Now I must return to business, but I wanted to say hello, Lucy. I will see you both at lunch."

"And Donnon too, Caspian," Lucy said merrily, giving the lord a huge smile. "He is my new champion."

This gave Caspian pause and almost made him break from his nonchalance. He glanced at Susan quickly, who merely shrugged as if to say that it wasn't her fault. Finally Caspian nodded. "Lunch then, Donnon. Good day, your Majesties." And with that the King left the throne room, taking any residual fight Donnon might have made with him. The lord's face was a thundercloud as he stomped back to his seat. Scythley leaned in to speak with him, but Donnon just jerked his head dismissively. Across the throne room in the far seats, Duke Hornabret seemed incredibly amused by the situation, his daughter at his side. Gerdi was smiling proudly at the Queens. Susan wanted to tell Gerdi not to be too proud yet. That was just one, and they had a day full of more.

Steeling herself for a fresh battle, the Queen called the next case.

* * *

_"Your plan isn't working."_

_"No. __**Your**__ plan isn't working. My plan is going along quite nicely."_

_"How can you even tell? The Warlock stopped communicating days ago."_

_"You poor fool. Tell me, what else other than a King of Narnia could have slain the Warlock?"_

_"That means…"_

_"Yes. And unless Aslan wants to die for a traitor twice, than the High King will have something much more important to deal with than the controlling of our King."_

_"And if the boy dies first?"_

_A dark smirk turned the corners of the second speaker's mouth, his eyes bright._

_"Yes. That would be terrible, wouldn't it? Such a very great shame."_

* * *

Lunch was an amusing affair for everyone but the newest Champion of her Royal Highness, Queen Lucy the Valiant.

Unaccustomed to dining privately with the royals, Lord Donnon still had managed to hold himself with arrogant dignity. His frustration from earlier in the day had smoothed off of his face, and initially he had sought to use the proximity to the Kings and Queens as a chance to better his own position. However every attempt that he made to speak of such things to Caspian or Peter was cut off immediately by the dual efforts of girl and feline. Lucy kept up a constant string of girlish chatter, ranging everywhere from the current geographic changes of Narnia from the Old Times, to her favorite color of hair ribbon. The kitten (or Kitten) insisted on sitting on his leg, kneading sharp little claws into his upper thigh, making the large Telmarine yelp in pain and the boys snicker. But every time Donnon placed the animal back on the ground, the chattering Lucy absently picked it up and placed it right back where it had been.

Peter wondered secretly if Lucy knew that she was putting her kitten (Kitten) in the worst place possible, but was much too polite to mention it in front of company. After Donnon almost leapt out of his seat with a barely contain curse, the kitten fighting for purchase as Lu lectured Donnon on proper kitten care, Caspian had to excuse himself into the hall before bursting out in laughter. Susan kept a demure expression as she politely sipped her soup, but she too had to excuse herself when Lucy forced the stressed looking Lord to repeat back to her the ideal table setting and food selection should one find themselves dining with a Beaver. Finally, nearly unable to contain his frustration, Lord Donnon begged leave of her Majesty, citing previous engagements that simply could not be ignored. Lucy had sniffed, looking offended, and stated that she disliked being ignored just as much and insisted he bring her back a suitable surprise for her pains. Agreeing quickly, the wide eyed man darted from the room, kitten (Kitten) in high pursuit.

"Hmmm, do you think he'll bring me a pony?" Lucy mused later with a giggle, after Peter had finished his meal and had escorted her to her and Susan's room. She settled down next comfortably in the sitting room, watching her brother flop down tiredly. "I've only ever had a Pony, and he was much too dignified for his own good."

"What in the world do you think you're doing, Lucy?" the High King asked, raising one eyebrow at his baby sister. "That man is not a playmate; he's a potentially very dangerous enemy. We still don't know where everyone stands, and the last thing in the world that I need right now is having my little sister in such a dodgy situation."

"I would have thought it apparent, Peter," Lucy said lightly, unconcerned at the possible danger. She was sure that he would agree once she explained her reasoning. "If we don't trust him, doesn't it make sense to keep him close? That way it will be even that much harder for him to do anything without us knowing about it. And I know you're worried about me getting hurt, but if something happened to me when Donnon is around, it would obviously get blamed on him. He's not that stupid. Plus he's the one that is causing the least amount of trouble for Caspian out of all the lords, so I think that I can manage him for awhile. You three have enough to do as it is."

"That's not the point, Lu," Peter grumbled, unwilling to cave to her logic. "You're only ten--."

"Nearly eleven," she corrected with a grin, making him roll his eyes.

"Fine, nearly eleven. You should be playing with dolls, not playing with politics. You're going to have to tell Donnon that you take it back. I'm not having that man shadow your every step."

"Am I not allowed to have a champion?" she teased, but Peter was not letting her have her way, not this time.

"If you want a champion, you have one," he said flatly. "Trust me, you've always had one. But Donnon goes. That's not a request."

"You're pulling rank on me," Lucy couldn't believe it, and her shock showed on her face. "That's not fair."

"And neither is putting yourself in a position that's going to make me worry myself sick about you day and night," the High King informed her, running a hand through his blonde hair. "Truly Lu, I don't have the energy for this. Please, just tell him you changed your mind, because it's going to cause a whole lot less problems than if I officially revoke his status. That is cause enough to have the lord claim insult. You are so young, it will be passed off as girlish fancy."

"I know you're not trying to sound as mean as you are," Lucy said softly, and there was a slight hitch to her voice. "Fine. If you insist."

"Lu… don't be like that. You have to understand--."

"I understand that everyone is helping fix things but me," Lucy said quietly. "I am a Queen of Narnia, too. I have ruled as long as you have. How many times must you insist on ignoring me until it is nearly too late?"

That one hurt Peter; she could see it in his eyes. So many times now not paying attention to Lucy had been nearly their downfall, but she had never brought that up to any of her family. Not being one to say she told them so, and she wasn't really sure she knew why she was doing it now. But she just had the feeling that it was important she help this way, and she wasn't going to back down without some sort of fight. The High King stood before her, his mouth opening to speak then shutting again several times. She watched as different emotions crossed his face, from concern to frustration then to resignation. Finally Peter's mouth set in a tight frown.

"Fine, Lucy, have it your way. But, there are conditions," Peter said, his decisive words broaching no argument. "I am assigning Ironhoof to you, and he will be present every time Donnon is. The second I hear that you have given any of your guards the slip, or have met with the lord in private for any reason, you will find yourself confined to the royal quarters, _permanently_. That is a promise, Lu, so be careful what you choose to do, little sister. Will you be in here the rest of the afternoon?"

Lucy nodded.

"Good. Do me a favor and stick in here until I come get you later."

"Peter, why?"

"Just trust me Lu. Things might get a little loud, but we have everything under control."

With that the High King kissed her on the top of the head and left, the heavy wooden door closing behind him. It was not thick enough to muffle the king's exasperated sigh before he ordered his Centaur bodyguard to remain with Lucy, nor the rumble of confusion coming from Ironhoof. At Peter's grumbled answer, Lucy flinched. She hated that he was unhappy with her because of something she'd done of her own choosing, especially when he loved her so much. He tried so hard to keep her happy and safe, and Lucy knew it was very difficult for him to suppress his protective nature. Still, he'd let her do it, so some part of him understood her logic, he just wouldn't admit it. Peter could be very stubborn when he felt like it.

As Lucy stood up from her divan, she felt dizzy, although it passed after only a moment. Deciding that maybe she just needed a nap, it had been a long couple days and she had been having bad dreams at night about her absent brother, Lucy padded into her and Susan's room. As she lay down, she briefly wondered if maybe this time she was wrong and Peter was right. She was impulsive but aware that she was just as fallible as anyone else. She had not yet reached a decision on the subject when she drifted into sleep. She dreamt of being cold, so very cold, and of a hopelessness that the young girl had never known in her own gentle heart.

* * *

The butterfly's wings were soft upon her cheeks as it brushed its kisses. The Queen sighed happily, watching her tiny lover flit away.

"Should I be jealous?"

Susan turned around at the soft masculine voice, feeling roughened fingers entwining themselves in her own. The King of Narnia gently tugged her closer, chocolate eyes drinking her in. Susan had been out here in the gardens most of the afternoon, idly strolling by around the pond in her bare feet. She loved the feel of grass scrunching between her toes, but not as much as she loved the way Caspian could always catch her by surprise and take her breath away. The King had been in council nearly all day with her brother, with the exception of lunch, and she had thought that he would not find time for her until much later. He looked so handsome as he stood before her, dark hair in his eyes and a touch of a smile curving his lips.

"Hallo, Caspian," Susan said brightly, looking up at him. She gave him a flirtatious smile. "I had thought you would never tire of my brother. I was almost stolen away from you by another, Sir Butterfly."

"Do I have competition, lady?" Caspian asked, now grinning at her. He kissed her hand, unable to help from brushing his lips across each knuckle individually. "Then I suppose I must fight to keep that which I hold most dear."

"Could you fight that which is more beautiful than myself?" Susan teased. "Or would the King find himself distracted, leaving his queen in her own competition for your attention?"

"There is no fight that I could not win for you," Caspian assured her sweetly, eyes twinkling as he sought to take her in his arms. "Nor a foe more distracting than you. Be easy, my queen, for there will be no competition for _my_ heart."

Susan laughed and pulled away. "And do not fear, good sir, for as beautiful as the butterfly is, he is no match for you."

Caspian tipped his head, looking a little embarrassed.

"I do not believe it says much for my masculine prowess to be compared to a butterfly," he decided. "Perhaps a swift cat or a strong bear?"

"I could call you a Mouse, for that is the greatest honor there is," Susan said archly, then laughed as he swept her up to him, tickling her sides with his hands. "No fair, Caspian!"

Off to the side, Peepiceek exchanged a confused glance with another Mouse guard but said nothing.

"All is fair in love and war," the King promised her, kissing her neck and making her giggle. "And I wage a war to win your love, sweetest lady."

"Your tongue is honeyed, my King," Susan declared, trying and failing to escape his embrace.

"I _am_ a King, aren't I?" Caspian said as he nuzzled her neck, as if the thought was a surprise to him.

"They say that a honeyed tongue is a sign of a knave."

"Hmmmm… A knave. I am sometimes that too."

Susan burst into laughter and leaned into Caspian, her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. He returned the embrace, momentarily lost in the scent of her hair. Then he loosened his arms, falling back so that he could look down at her properly.

"I must ask a favor of you, my queen," he told her, his voice growing solemn as he dropped their word play.

"And what is that?"

"I would ask that you remain in your quarters for the rest of the day." Her smile faded to be replaced by a frown. Caspian quickly moved on. "Or if you will not, I would ask that you stay close to your guards and arm yourself." He pulled something out of the side of his belt, and pressed it into her hands.

"Arm myself? Caspian, why?" Susan looked at what he had given her. It was a dagger, its sheath made of ornately carved leather. It had obviously been well used, for the leather was soft and the details worn to near obscurity.

"Because there is something that will occur today and if it does not go properly, I would not have you unarmed." Caspian stepped forward, his mouth near her ear for privacy. "I do not expect trouble, or I would not be asking. I would be _insisting_ you be sequestered away. But as things are, I will still feel better this way."

"What is--" she started to demand but at his shush Susan quieted her voice to a whisper. "What is to happen?"

"I cannot tell you," Caspian admitted apologetically. At her look of indignation, he shook his head. "It is not from lack of trust. However you wear your heart on your sleeve. If you are present at the right time and do not react as you normally would, then things might not go properly, my queen."

"Is there nothing you can tell me?" Susan asked, looking unhappily at the dagger. "Nothing at all?"

"Just that no matter how cruel and callous I might appear today, I am the man I have always been. And I love all my people."

"Caspian, I don't understand," Susan said almost plaintively. Caspian tipped her chin up and kissed her, a long firm kiss.

"You do not have to. I will tell you everything this evening, I promise." He kissed her a second time, lingeringly, for a moment feeling breathless. "You _are_ so beautiful…" he whispered, almost to himself. Then he gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek.

"Please," Caspian nodded at the dagger as he stepped away. "Just keep it on your person."

"I will," Susan finally agreed, although she did not like it. As she watched him stride away, she noticed that same purposeful walk that Peter had when he had been in the midst of something important. It was not like Caspian to not speak with her about whatever it was that was happening. She wasn't sure if she liked being left in the dark. Simultaneously, she wasn't sure she liked knowing either. Deciding that she had no other choice but to trust him, Susan tucked the dagger within the deep pockets of her skirts. Just in case.

* * *

Lucy woke up with a start. Confused as to her instinctive alarm, she looked around the room. The slightly deeper colors of the late afternoon sun filtered through the partially drawn curtains, making her blink. Then the crashing of steel against steel sounded, causing her to leap to her feet and dart out of bed. The sounds of fighting were louder in her sitting room, and to her surprise when she poked her nose out of the room, she found her door unguarded completely. The halls were in chaos. Men that she didn't recognize were running about, some in the garb of palace guards and others in unmarked clothing. Soldiers had their swords drawn and were forcibly dragging the unmarked Telmarines around, although for what reason, Lucy had no idea. She also had no idea where Ironhoof was, although she heard a deep rumbling roar from the other end of the corridor and sure it was him, Lucy stepped out into the hall to try and see what the matter was.

It was a very bad idea.

Once beyond the safety of the doorway, the littlest Queen found herself swept up in the jostling. She was pushed down the hallway, away from Ironhoof and deeper into the chaos. Lucy tried to plant herself and order everyone to stop this mess at once, but her words were lost beneath the shriek of steel on steel as the unmarked men began fighting back in earnest. Realizing that this was a very bad place for her to be right now, Lucy cast about for the closest Narnian she could find. There were none. Shrinking as tightly as she could to the wall, Lucy tried to make herself as small as possible. She hated fighting and bloodshed, and she definitely hated being all alone in the midst of it.

"This is not a very good place for you right now, your Majesty," a deep voice rumbled as a short but very broad figure fought its way to her. Dr. Cornelius. Having been of dubious health since his time spent in Miraz's prison, the older Narnian spent most of his time reading quietly within the warmth and comfort of his rooms. After the tournament, the half Dwarf had been feeling especially ill, and had kept to his bed more often than not. But he was making a beeline for the Queen and with a gasp of relief, Lucy grabbed a hold of his much larger hand.

"What is going on?" Lucy wanted to know, eyes huge and holding tightly as the half Dwarf pulled her back towards her quarters.

"It seems that both our King and High King have made a serious misjudgment today, Queen Lucy," Dr. Cornelius mentioned, his calm demeanor not betraying his concern at the fighting all around them. "It would be best if you were not in the halls."

"Why is everyone fighting?" Lu asked, then she yelped as a soldier went stumbling back and nearly knocked her down. Cornelius seized the man by the tunic, and with the strength of his Narnian ancestors, he tossed the man back from Lucy and into two more Telmarines. As they all tumbled to the ground, a loud roar and the thunder of hooves momentarily caused the men in the hall to hesitate. An enraged looking Ironhoof was forcing his way through simultaneously kicking and punching everyone who got in his way. With a sweep of his hindquarters, he cleared the area around the half Dwarf and girl, and shoved both back through the door of Lucy's quarters.

"Stay inside your Majesty!" the Centaur demanded, sounding even grimmer and angrier than normal. "Bolt the door!"

Cornelius hurried to do as directed, the heavy metal bolt dropping in place securely as Lucy sat back down. Her tiny face was pale.

"What in the world is going on?" she asked a second time. Cornelius just shook his head.

* * *

"I demand to know just what is going on," Susan declared imperiously, however it was a bit hard to maintain her dignity while being drug down the castle halls by the arm. She had been about to return to her and Lucy's rooms when Lord Tenneth had appeared outside in the gardens with ten men. Immediately they had surrounded the Queen as the sounds of fighting broke loose. Her Cat guard had tightened in close to her, and the growling made more than one Telmarine cast about nervously. However the General seemed impervious, ignoring their bared teeth as he took Susan by the arm and pulled her towards the castle.

"I was told you would be in your chambers, my Queen," Tenneth growled, his eyes sweeping over the chaos in the halls. This was not going nearly as well as planned. He ducked into a tiny service corridor, one that led towards the courtyard. The hall was small, so that only two across could pass at a time.

"I was headed there in a moment, as Caspian requested."

"He should have made you go immediately, as I said."

"The _King_ makes his own decisions," Susan defended Caspian, emphasizing his title pointedly, than she yelped as a pair of men came tumbling out of a side corridor towards them with weapons flailing. Tenneth smoothly turned and pulled Susan behind him, drawing his sword halfway and slamming the pommel of it into one's jaw, knocking him out as his jaw broke. The second was screaming as he fought to kick off the Leopard that had buried its teeth into his arm, his sword clattering to the ground. Tenneth absently kicked the weapon away as he pulled a wide eyed Susan around and had her hurrying down the hall once more.

"General?" she gasped breathlessly as the corridor opened up again, her guard folding around her so that she couldn't see what was going on past tall heads and broad shoulders.

"The Telmarines are fighting each other, your Majesty," one of her Cats rasped, grimacing at the taste still in its mouth from biting the human. "The Narnians are staying clear, with the exception of the Centaurs. They are rounding up the ones not in uniform."

"Are we under attack?" Susan grew cold at the thought, but was reassured by the General's words.

"We are the ones attacking, my Queen," Tenneth told her confidently, slowing his pace as they exited the interior of the palace into one of the largest courtyards. "There were armed men being snuck into the palace, possibly for a coup. The High King and King Caspian ordered for them to be removed immediately." He frowned as he added under his breath, "There were a few more than we had thought."

And there were. Having been under the impression that approximately two hundred and fifty men had been brought into the palace, the General looked over the courtyard. Nearly twice as many as his intelligence had led him to believe were now being lined up and forced to their knees, weapons removed and hands bound before them. The Telmarine Royal Guard was standing at attention with their prisoners, the Old Narnians having positioned themselves along the walls surrounding the courtyard and blocking off all means of escape. The only way out of there was over the battlements, and a lengthy plunge to their deaths. Susan unhappily looked at the bound men, seeing the expression of apprehension and downright fear on many faces.

"Who are these men?" she wanted to know, but Tenneth merely gestured towards the steps before the battlements. Seated in heavy chairs on the highest rise so that they could see everything easily, both Peter and Caspian watched dispassionately as more men were brought in and bound. Susan started to go over to them, but Peter must have been watching for her, because as soon as she started to step he caught her eye and gave a quick shake of his head. Confused but aware of the chain of command, the Queen stayed where she was.

"My Lord Tenneth?" Susan pressed urgently. While a scenario such as this was unknown in the Golden Age of Narnia, the Queen was politically savvy enough to understand the complications arising. "What will they do with these men?" The Telmarine General looked down at her, his dark eyes searching hers for just a moment before turning away.

"They will do as they must," was his simple reply. "If your Majesty wishes than I will escort you inside before this starts. However much longer and you will have to remain. I will not send you back in the castle unaccompanied. It is too dangerous at this moment." One of the Cats hissed at him but he ignored it.

"What of Lucy?" Susan worried, but the older man just gave the very smallest quirk of a smile.

"_Her_ Majesty stayed in her rooms as she was requested," Tenneth drawled, causing Susan to blush slightly at the admonishment. Any further conversation was cut off by the marching of feet and loud protestations as the entirety of the Council of Lords was "escorted" through the crowds and positioned beneath the steps. They had many choice words to say, arguing angrily with themselves and towards Caspian, with only Lord Donnon and the Duke of Galma looking entirely unconcerned with the whole thing.

"Silence!"

Caspian's voice cut through the crowds as he stood. A hush fell over the courtyard. He looked coldly imperious as he stood, looking down at the gathered each in turn, as if taking their stock and measure.

"Your Majesty, if I may," Lord Baerd started, but Caspian cut him off with a flick of his hand.

"No you may not, Baerd. In fact the next person to open their mouths without permission will find themselves in the dungeons until winter. Anyone else want to interrupt me?"

No one answered, shocked at the harshness of the King's tone, even Susan herself. Lord Scythley had grown slightly pale, although Donnon simply raised an eyebrow and the Duke of Galma looked smug.

"We seem to have a problem," High King Peter said quietly, the softness of his words sounding even more frightening then the louder heavy ones of Caspian. "The Castle has been invaded by armed Telmarine men. Caspian, are they your men?" he asked drolly. Caspian glowered at the bound men, watching several shiver beneath his gaze.

"Nay, brother, they are not my men."

"Hmmm. But they are Telmarine men, are they not?"

"Aye."

"But they must be _someone's_ men. Someone _must_ be in charge of them, giving them orders, or they never would have managed to infiltrate so many in at once. Would anyone like to admit to control of these men?"

"Your Majesties, you must not be thinking--" Scythley began, sounding outraged, however he was cut off smoothly by Lord Donnon.

"While it is only natural for the Council to bear the burden of your distrust, what with the questionable activities of your departed uncle, I must say that I find this insinuation to be mildly insulting King Caspian," Donnon bowed low to his liege. "I would have hoped your trust in me as an advisor and subject would have garnered more faith. I am hurt, sire."

"Duly noted, my Lord. As a Champion of the Crown herself, it is your place to be above distrust," Caspian said, locking eyes with the Lord. Donnon flinched slightly to the reference to Lucy's brand new tie on him, but he merely bowed lower. "As for the rest of you, no one has anything to say?"

"Galma is as ever loyal, your Majesty," the Duke murmured, openly smirking at the other Lords. "Considering my daughter's suit for your hand, it would do little to behoove me to be involved in a coup. My choice for the throne stands on it as we speak. All my men are accounted for, should you wish to investigate."

"Hmm. Anyone else?"

A chorus of denials followed. Peter and Caspian exchanged a glance, and then Caspian stepped forward.

"Very well. We shall just have to ask the men themselves who it is they follow." Caspian pointed at one of the prisoners and the tall Telmarine was picked up by the scruff of the neck and thrown at the base of the steps. As the frightened looking man stared up at his King, Susan gave a cry of dismay.

It was Rhince.

* * *

The castle was growing quiet once more, but Lucy wasn't sure if maybe that was worse. However the steady clomping of Ironhoof's pacing gave her the security in knowing that at least he was alright. Dr. Cornelius had busied himself by fetching the small container of water kept heating over the Queens' fireplace, and was finishing pouring them both a cup of tea. Lucy smiled and accepted the proffered cup.

"Thank you," she said politely. "We do have wine if you would prefer, sir."

"Thank you as well, your Majesty," Cornelius returned the smile and sat down across from the Queen. "However I have stuck mostly to water or tea these days. Wine leaves me too lightheaded."

"Peter won't let me have more than a half glass a day," Lucy rolled her eyes at the protectiveness. "He seems to feel it is bad for me. I think he forgets that I am a Queen too, and that I'm not silly enough to get into my 'cups."

"Truly?" Cornelius raised a skeptical eyebrow, making the girl giggle.

"Well, _most_ of the time." She took a small sip and then curled her bare feet beneath her. "Doctor? What misjudgment did Peter and Caspian make? You said they knew of the men hidden and didn't tell anyone about their intentions to flush the men out, so to avoid more fighting. Didn't it work?"

"It seems to have, your Majesty." His voice rumbled soothingly, but she could hear the note of discontent in it.

"Then what is wrong?"

"The problem is this: now that they have these men, what will they do with them? They cannot just set them free or risk the same kind of scenario repeating itself. They cannot imprison men who are only following orders, and they cannot kill the men that gave the orders. The Council Lords will claim to have not given any order for attack and will blame any fighting on the men themselves. If there is a single seed of doubt in the intentions of the Lords, to have them imprisoned or killed will only make Caspian appear a tyrant like his uncle. To punish the men themselves will turn the commoners against Caspian. They moved too quickly in arresting these men."

"But if they had waited, wouldn't it have possibly ended in real fighting in the castle?" Lucy asked, pursing her lips. "Wouldn't more people have been hurt?"

"Possibly. But then they would have been able to make a fair and just ruling against men and Lord. Their actions would have been condoned. A misstep now could weaken the monarchy, and a big enough blunder could allow the Lords to claim foul against Caspian and the Barbarians he has allowed to rule alongside him, no offence intended your Majesty. The Narnians will not allow their Kings and Queens to be dethroned, not on their lives."

"And we would be back where we started from." Lucy sighed sadly, wishing for not the first time that she had Aslan to speak to. Then she steeled her little shoulders and spoke firmly. "Then I guess all we can do is trust in Peter and Caspian to do the right thing. Peter has had to make very difficult choices before, but he always knew what he was doing. And Caspian is so good and noble. I think we should have faith in them and in Aslan that it will all end up alright."

Cornelius smiled again, impressed as always in his little Queen's strength. "Indeed, your Majesty. Indeed."

Having nothing else they could do, they poured another cup of tea.

* * *

"Who gave you your orders to enter the castle, Telmarine?"Caspian asked, his voice deceptively quiet. Rhince just remained silent, but Susan could see him trembling ever so slightly.

"If given a direct order, than the fault is lain at the feet of your leader. However if you refuse to name him, then the throne will have to assume you acted of your own accord. I ask you again man, _who ordered you into the castle_?"

"I… I cannot answer that, Sire," Rhince whispered in a rough voice. "On pain of my family, my loyalty must remain true."

"Your loyalty is to the Crown," the High King said coldly. "If that is no longer the case, if you draw arms in the castle itself, then you are a traitor to the Crown and will be dealt with as such."

"Peter!" Susan started to interject, but the General halted her words with a tightened grip on her arm.

"Please do not interfere, your Majesty," he spoke loudly, his voice carrying across the courtyard. Susan looked at him angrily.

"That man is a friend!"

"That man is a traitor and must be treated thusly," the General maintained, and much to her frustration neither King was paying her any heed. Instead Caspian was staring down at Rhince.

"Is this your decision, Telmarine?"

"Aye, your Majesty…"

"So be it. General Tenneth," Caspian called the older man, who stepped away from Susan and marched across the courtyard, limping slightly. As he reached the steps, Tenneth grasped Rhince by the collar and hauled him to his feet, dragging him up the steps and past the two silent monarchs. Susan pushed through the crowds, no longer held back by the General. Realizing what was about to happen, she cried out his name to stop him, but Tenneth simply paused and looked at his King. With bleak eyes, Caspian merely nodded. Rhince gave one strangled cry, which was cut off as he was drug to the battlements and flipped over. There was no sound as the man plunged to his death.

The blood drained from Susan's face as she stumbled, horrified at what she had just seen. A hand reached to steady her. It was Mari, her lady in waiting. The other woman seemed shocked, but not upset, instead watching Caspian proudly as the rest of the prisoners in the courtyard immediately burst in incoherent babbling. The names Baerd, Scythley, along with a few other lesser Lords were the most heard, causing the men to pale beneath the accusations. Neither Lord Donnon nor the Duke of Galma was accused, and both men stood quietly, content to watch the others squirm. The death of Rhince didn't seem to affect either man.

"_**Silence**_!" Caspian's voice cut through the cries, and the frightened men fell silent. Caspian turned to the Lords accused, raising an eyebrow. "Do you have any defense for yourselves, my Lords?"

"Sire," Baerd bowed as low as he could, his hands wringing nervously. "It was only for my own protection. There were never any thoughts as to any kind of political coup for the throne…"

"I should hope not," Peter said mildly. Susan was shocked at his apparent lack of concern at the killed Telmarine. The High King of Old would never have let that happen.

"The other Lords had brought in their own men and for my own protection--" Scythley started, but Caspian cut him off.

"That will no longer be an issue, my Lord. From now on, royal decree is that no single Lord of the Council is to have more than ten armed guards with him at any time on palace grounds, unless otherwise dictated by the crown."

"Ten?" Baerd stuttered, wild eyed. "Your Majesty! Only ten will not sufficiently protect any of us from the maneuvering that has always been part of the Council."

Caspian smirked, jumping on that as soon as it was out of Baerd's mouth. "Then it would be wise for the Council to realize that its safety is in providing the service for which it was originally intended: aiding and advising the Crown, as opposed to advancing issues to its own benefit. However, in the interest of keeping my countrymen at ease, at the High King's approval, I will insist upon having a close personal guard of Narnians set to each Lord, allowing him the safety precautions necessary." Peter nodded agreement, his blue eyes smirking.

"Your Majesties, that is unnecessary…" Scythley protested weakly, knowing exactly what Caspian and Peter were doing, but unable to stop it. With Narnians close, it would be that much harder for the Lords to plot in secret.

"The Crown insists," Caspian said decisively. He turned to the rest of the gathered Lords. "This is now royal decree. However if any of you find the position too much of a burden or a risk, then by all means neither the Kings nor Queens of Narnia will take insult. Your lands and swords will be returned to the throne from wince they were initially leant, and you will be allowed to retire in comfort. Should you choose to remain, I would remind the Lord of the Council that this is no longer the place that it once was. This is a new Narnia, and we do things differently now."

At his words, strong tawny wings beat up into the air from behind him. A Griffin rose from outside the castle wall, an exuberant looking Rhince seated on his back. Susan felt relief rush through her, than felt foolish. She should have known that neither Peter nor Caspian would have ever done something like that. The Telmarines hadn't known however, and it seemed as if Rhince had been quite the skilled actor. Realizing they had been simultaneously duped and cut off at the knees, the Telmarines could only stare at their Kings in shock and angered awe. Peter rose and went to Caspian's side, a smile tugging his lips as he asked the assembly.

"Any questions?"

* * *

Caspian was seriously considering sinking into his bath and staying there forever.

The stress of this long day had left the muscles in his back tensely knotted, and no matter how many times he rotated his shoulder blades, they stayed as such. His manservant, a sweet tempered Faun named Lunus, had already drawn him the water and doused it with dried herbs and flowers. The scent was spicy but not unpleasant, and even in the next room over he could feel a slight drowsiness overtaking him. Mentally noting to give the blessed Faun a raise for his thoughtfulness, Caspian entered his bath.

The King thankfully stripped his clothes off, thinking as he slid into the steaming water about how the many layers were so unnecessary. Half the time he felt as if he looked like a primped up fool, near gaudy despite his efforts to simplify his attire. Ahh, if he could just be in the woods again, with only a brigandine to cumber his movements… Out of them all, it seemed like Su was the only one that actually _enjoyed_ all this finery. And after listening to Lucy describe the process her sister went through to prepare herself for state occasions, Caspian was thankful that he merely had to bear tight collars and the occasional ruffle.

Oh, how he despised ruffles.

"Your Majesty?" A quiet knock on his door brought him from his thoughts. It was Lunus. "Her Majesty Queen Susan is requesting an audience with you."

Caspian sighed and nodded, instructing the Faun to let the Queen know he would meet with her momentarily. However he did not hurry as he normally did when going to see Susan. In fact, as he dried off and dressed slowly, Caspian had to admit that he was slightly dreading seeing her. He had deliberately kept his eyes away from her during the afternoon's activities, knowing that if he had seen her distress he would have weakened. But her reaction had only made the farce that much more believable, as cruel as it had been to her. He and Peter had argued the issue of her involvement more than anything else that morning, neither one wanting to upset the Queen. However Susan was no actor, and her honest reaction had only helped save lives in the end. Steeling himself Caspian made his way to the kitchens, where he had been asked to meet her, fearful of encountering harsh words from the Queen. He poked his head around the corner, and he was unable to keep from smiling at what he saw.

The Queen was currently stuffing her face full of berry tart. Usually a polite and slow eater, Su was shoveling the dessert into her mouth at a rapid pace, not even slowing down as he bowed to her and seated himself across the table.

"You asked to speak with me, my Queen?" Caspian said softly, trying to keep his expression smooth. It was hard to do as she licked her fingers clean. Susan gave him a look that could have meant anything.

"I think I'm mad at you, Caspian," she told him in a confused voice as she continued to eat. "But I'm also proud of how you managed to handle things today. Peter filled me in later, and in essence I agree with what you did, if not exactly with how you did it. But letting the men remain any longer could have been bad. And you've effectively leashed the Council, which is a very good thing. However you also scared me half to death, thinking you had willing killed Rhince. So I think I'm mad at you. But I'm not sure."

Caspian was uncertain how to respond to that, so he continued to sit, waiting for some clue from her as how to proceed properly. But since she was just eyeing him silently over her tart, Caspian figured he had to say _something_.

"I'm…sorry?" he tried hopefully.

"Are you?" Susan raised an eyebrow dubiously.

"For upsetting you, yes. For the rest of today, no. If it makes you feel any better, I nearly broke when I heard you cry out. I wanted to tell you everything was alright, but there was no way I could. I am truly sorry that you were upset, my Queen."

"Hmmm. I accept your apology." She went back to eating.

"May I have a bite?"

"No." Susan tugged the tart closer stubbornly.

Caspian smiled at her and reached out to take her hand. "You _are_ upset. It's okay to admit it to me," he told her gently. "I would be too."

"No, you would be understanding and wonderful, and not stuffing yourself with tart. Watch me get fat, too. Stupid men." At her words, Caspian laughed outright and stood, moving around the table to stand behind the Queen, who was scooping the last bit from the plate.

"Your heart is the most precious thing in Narnia," he whispered in her ear, brushing a kiss across her temple. "Not your midline, which is shapely enough to withstand even the greatest efforts on behalf of the conquered pastry. Is there anything I can do to ease your discontent, dearest?"

Susan reached back a hand and buried her fingers into his hair, drawing his head back down and tilting her own so that he could place soft kisses down the side of her throat.

"Slay me another berry tart?" Susan murmured, leaning back in his embrace.

"Whatever my Queen wishes."

"I may still be mad at you…" she said breathlessly moments later, losing herself in the way his arms felt around her.

"I am doing my best to rectify that."

"Hmmm… Caspian? The tart?"

"Hmmm?"

"You really are a knave, aren't you?"

His warm laughter against her skin was his reply.

* * *

The castle loomed over their heads, blotting out the setting sun and leaving them in icy darkness. In front of them stood a story high set of heavy wooden doors, each slicked over with a thin layer of ice.

"Are you sure about this, your Majesty?" Trumpkin asked Edmund. "They say you never went back in, during the Olden Times. You sure you want to start now?"

Edmund Pevensie, once Traitor of Narnia, just gave the Dwarf a tight smile before he took a deep breath and pulled the door open. It swung easily, as if it had been waiting for them to return. _For him to return_. Taking another deep breath, King Edmund the Just led his comrades into darkness.


End file.
